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REFUGEE ROCK 



















































































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You take me unawares 



REFUGEE ROCK 


BY 

RUPERT S. HOLLAND ✓ 

w 



PHILADELPHIA 

GEORGE W. JACOBS & COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 




Copyright, 1920, by 
v George W. Jacobs <£• Company 



0C ^c\l?576857 ^ 


JOHN CHAMBERS HINCKLEY 
















CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Comrades Three 15 

II. Where the Dog Led 26 

III. The Lone Fisherman 37 

IV. A Shot in the Night 50 

V. The Men on the Dock 61 

VI. Rodney and Craddock 76 

VII. Aboard the Smack 91 

VIII. A Night’s Adventure 103 

IX. Treasure Chests 116 

X. Widdicome’s Store 130 

XI. The Old Junk Shop 144 

XII. Widdicome Calls at the Rock 157 

XIII. When Thief Meets Thief 172 

XIV. Storm Signals . . 186 

XV. The House by the Harbor 201 

XVI. The Three Bears 215 

XVII. Secret Service 229 

XVIII. A Little Affair on the Beach 243 

XIX. In the Sand Dunes 258 

XX. Stand and Deliver 272 

XXI. Comrades Four 286 






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ILLUSTRATIONS 


You take me unawares Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

Rodney let himself down the rope 98 


It was the big bearded Ivan who stood before him . . . 168 


He turned the box upside down 262 




REFUGEE ROCK 


i 

COMRADES THREE 

I T was mid-July, and the three mates were aboard 
a little knockabout, with motor attachment in case 
they ran into calms or storms and had to do without 
canvas, and the open ocean was blue and shining 
to the east and south of them, and the rugged coast 
of Maine lay to the north and west. 

The Penguin was not a new boat; for three years 
Tom Hardy had sailed her from his father’s float 
at Kittery under the eye of an old skipper. Tom 
knew every twist and turn of the little craft as a 
cowboy knows his bronco. And the old skipper had 
said as .:e saw the mates start on their cruise, 4 ‘ There’s 
many a time I ’d have given my eye-teeth to have a lad 
along with me as knows as much about a boat as 
Thomas ! ’ ’ 

The afternoon wind was fresh and the sun was 
15 


REFUGEE ROCK 


warm. To the west gulls were soaring between the 
Penguin and the shore. Stephen Colt, a Canadian, 
and friend of Tom for many summers, was splicing 
two ends of rope, and Rodney McIntyre was drawing 
pictures in a note-book. The knockabout’s master, 
keeping the Penguin’s nose up to the wind, was try- 
ing to whistle a certain tune, though no one could 
possibly tell what tune it was. 

Three mates on a dancing boat, sailing over a sum- 
mer sea, and ready for any adventure ! 

“ Golly!” said the lad from Montreal. “Cut out 
the music, Tom! You don’t have to make such a 
screeching, do you?” 

For answer the skipper gave a final defiant trill. 
“My voice is very much admired by those who know 
good music,” said he. 

“Your voice? Maybe it is; it’s loud enough any- 
way. I was talking about your whistling. It makes 
me think of gulls screaming for more fish.” 

“Want me to sing you something? Name your 
tune, Steve.” 

For answer the black-haired fellow made a face. 
“Where do we go from here?” he said. “Is it to be 
a downy couch in another hotel to-night?” 

“We’ve got plenty of food on board for supper and 
16 


COMRADES THREE 


breakfast. I vote for an out-doors bunk.” Rodney 
looked at his arms and shoulders, which were blistered 
and beginning to peel. “I don’t want to dress up 
again if I can help it.” 

1 ‘ Right you are, ’ ’ said the skipper. i i We ’ll pick out 
a little harbor of our own, make a fire, and do some 
fancy cooking. Remember my pancakes?” 

“And my scrambled eggs?” suggested Stephen. 

“I tucked away a couple of jars of jam,” put in Rod- 
ney. 

“You’re the lad with the sweet tooth all right,” said 
Stephen. “That’s why you’re so fat.” 

Rodney stood up, easing his blistered shoulders by 
straightening his back. “You don’t know fat from 
muscle, you skinny mahogany man. Ouch! Well, I 
do wish I had a leather skin like yours, Steve. And 
the worst of it is I never get a real decent tan. I’m 
always red as a lobster. ’ ’ 

“Some people like red better than black,” said the 
skipper. “You’ve got nice blue eyes anyhow, Roddy. 
I heard a girl say so.” 

“Oh, shut up!” growled the sunburned one. “A 
fellow can’t help his good looks, can he?” 

“If you’d try a little cold cream — ” began Stephen. 

Straight at the head of the other flew Rodney’s 
17 


REFUGEE ROCK 


note-book. Stephen dodged and the book went over- 
board. 

“Hard-a-lee!” sang out Rodney. “Pm going to 
save my sketches !” 

Clad as he was in shirt and old duck trousers, it was 
the work of a second to dive overboard and get his 
fingers on the book. He came up alongside the Pen- 
guin as Tom brought her about. Up on the deck he 
flopped. 

“Nice work!” said Stephen. “You do get around 
pretty spry for a fellow your size.” 

With dignity the stout boy vanished into the cabin 
to put on dry clothes. And finding the bunks looking 
very inviting he lay down for forty winks or so. 

Meantime the knockabout, finding the wind exactly to 
her liking, was tearing over the water like a runaway. 
“If this wind only holds—” said Tom, squinting an 
eye like a professional mariner at some light clouds 
in the east. What would happen if it did hold he 
didn’t deign to say, and Stephen, who wasn’t listening 
to him, didn’t ask him to explain. 

‘ i I wish, ’ ’ said the dark fellow, looking over toward 
the coast, “we could put up something on Roddy. 
He’s always wanting something exciting to happen. 
It would tickle him to death to discover a sea-serpent 
18 


COMRADES THREE 


or a pirate. Even an old ship stuck in the sand sets 
him to talking about treasure sunk on boats in the days 
of Columbus. Nobody likes something strange as 
much as Roddy, and I wish we could cook up something 
of the sort for him. ,, 

“You’re mighty thoughtful for Roddy!” grunted 
the skipper. “When we land to-night you might pre- 
tend you’re a native American Indian and try to keep 
him from going ashore on your coast. Only I’ll bet 
Roddy would get ashore all right. ’ ’ 

“Nothing like that,” said Stephen. “But I am go- 
ing to keep my eyes wide open, and if you see me tip- 
ping you the wink just follow my lead.” 

Lightly the Penguin sped along, and as the sun began 
to drop in the western sky the skipper altered his 
course so as to draw near the land. 

The sunburned boy woke and came out on deck. 
“Where are we!” he asked. “Must be nearing the 
North Pole by this time.” 

“Somewhere off of Boothbay, I reckon,” answered 
the skipper. “There’s about a million little islands 
along here. Suppose you take the tiller, Roddy, and 
pick out a port for yourself.” 

In spite of his blisters Rodney accepted the position 
of honor. Soon the Penguin was following a more 
19 


REFUGEE ROCK 


zig-zag course, tacking in and out, the three mates 
studying the shoreline for an attractive harbor. 

As Tom had said, the outer edge of that particular 
stretch of Maine appeared to be islands, more islands, 
and still more islands. Not a house was to be seen, 
nor a wharf nor pier. Pine woods ran down to the 
beaches and to the rocky cliffs. Yet in the summer 
sunshine the dark forests, the jutting ledges, the little 
reefs where the waves lapped busily, were filled with 
exquisite color. 

“ Looks to me as if we’d struck unexplored country,” 
observed Stephen solemnly. ‘ ‘ This ’ll give you an idea, 
Roddy, of how your friend Christopher Columbus felt 
when he came knocking along here looking for a short 
cut to India.” 

“Huh!” said the steersman. “It was the West 
Indies he struck. Don ’t you remember how he smelled 
spices a couple of days before he sighted land? I 
guess you’re thinking of Leif the Lucky or some of 
those Yiking lads from Iceland. They’re the ones who 
landed along this rock-bound coast. There! That 
looks like a right snug little harbor dead ahead. Let’s 
take a look at it.” 

The Penguin pushed her nose toward the shore. ‘ 4 It 
looks like the Rock of Gibraltar to me,” said Tom. 

20 


COMRADES THREE 


“The harbor’s all right provided the wind doesn’t 
come up from the southeast.” 

The island ahead of them did look like a vast rock, as 
indeed it was, though it was heavily wooded on top. 
Ledges of stone stuck out everywhere, only partly 
hidden by juniper and bay vines and low, scrubby 
bushes. At the base was a beach, several beaches in 
fact, shaped like scallops between pointing headlands. 
And one of these headlands had smooth, straight sides 
that made an excellent breakwater for a harbor. 

The Penguin dropped her sail and cast anchor. 
Like a careful skipper Tom made sure of his moorings 
before he did anything else. Then he helped the others 
store provisions in the dinghey and allowed the crew 
to row him to the beach. 

“Pretty snug little diggings,” observed Stephen, 
casting an appraising eye at the base of the cliff. 
“Plenty of firewood to be had for the picking, plenty of 
nice dry sand, and plenty of boulders at hand to shy at 
Indians or bears or skunks, if they come nosing around 
looking for little Roddy.” 

Rodney, however, having been born with an explor- 
ing turn of mind, was already examining the country 
north of the headland. Now the other two heard him 
whistle and saw him beckon to them. Quickly they 
21 


REFUGEE ROCK 


joined him, and looked beyond a screen of bushes that 
fell down from the cliff. A hundred yards or so away, 
in the next scallop of beach, lay a dory, and two men 
were heading toward her from a cleft in the rocks. 

“So it’s not a deserted island after all,” said Ste- 
phen. “I wonder if those two fellows could tell us if 
there 's a spring anywhere about ?” 

The three mates crossed the headland and walked 
toward the dory. As they approached the two men 
stopped. They looked like a couple of fishermen, their 
skins tanned by sun and wind, their clothes faded to a 
coppery green. 

“Hello,” called Rodney. “Is there a spring on the 
island ? ' ' 

“Dunno,” answered one of the men, a fellow with a 
bushy yellow mustache. “Never heard that there 
was. ' ' 

“Good fishing off shore V 9 inquired Stephen. 

“Yep, the fishing all right. What are you after ? 
Fish?” 

“Oh, no,” said Stephen. “We're just cruising 
along . 9 1 

“Going to spend the night here?” 

“We'd thought of it,” Stephen admitted. 

“There's a town inland. Nobody round here.” 

22 


COMRADES THREE 


“Oh, we don’t mind that.” 

“Well, good luck, boys. We’ve got to be getting 
along.” 

The two went on to the dory. The three mates 
watched the men launch her and pull away at the oars. 
“Hello,” said Tom, “there’s a small-sized smack lying 
out there ! That ’s what they ’re pulling f or. ” 

“What were they doing here!” asked Rodney. 

Neither of the other two could think of an answer. 
But as Rodney often asked questions that seemed to 
have no answers they paid no attention to this one, 
but turned about and walked back to their own stretch 
of beach. 

“It is a deserted island then,” said Stephen, as they 
began to collect driftwood for their fire. “No- 
body here but the three of us and about a million 
gulls.” 

A few minutes later, however, they heard a short, 
sharp bark come out of the bushes. The bark was fol- 
lowed by a dog, that appeared part collie, but not 
wholly so. The dog looked the three mates over and 
then came up to Rodney, wagging his tail. 

“Hm,” said Rodney, putting out his hand, “what is 
a nice little dog like you doing on a rock in the ocean 
where there aren’t any people?” 

23 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“A nice plump little dog too,” said Stephen, “that 
looks as if he had fed on plenty of bones.' ' 

“He's perfectly dry,” Rodney continued. “He 
hasn't swum out here from anywhere.” 

The three regarded the dog thoughtfully, and the 
near-collie returned their glances with his big brown 
eyes for a moment, then began to caper about and 
show unmistakable signs of a desire to have someone 
pick up a stick and throw it out for his dogship to re- 
trieve. 

“Well,” said Rodney judicially, “I'll bet he doesn't 
belong to those two men in the dory. He's not their 
kind of a dog, he's too well-behaved. And I'll bet his 
master didn't leave him on this island intentionally. 
No one would go away and leave a poor doggie like 
that. I'll tell you what let's do, fellows. Let's 
see where he'll take us if we follow him. It's early 
yet. We can build our fire and get supper after- 
wards.” 

“I knew Roddy 'd think of something mysterious,” 
said Stephen. “The adventure of the little puppy dog 
and the island rock. I'm on, lads. Lead the way, 
Rover. ' ' 

The dog looked up, as if he knew the dark boy was 
speaking to him, and then, with a delighted wagging 
24 


COMRADES THREE 


of his tail, turned about and scampered up over the 
shingle. 

After him went the three, each of them curious to see 
what their new acquaintance was going to show them. 


25 


II 


WHERE THE DOG LED 


T the top of the shingle was a pebbly path, bor- 



dered with beach-peas and bay. The dog trotted 


along this, as indeed he had to do, unless he wanted to 
scale a sheer and slippery rock. Presently, however, 
he came to a little gully, leading inland. Turning into 
this he brought his three followers to a stretch of 
marshy ground, brilliant with purple iris. Beyond, a 
fairly smooth slope led upward. Here the dog raced 
ahead, turning midway to look back and make sure of 
his friends. Then on again he went until he reached 
the top, where he stopped and wagged his tail more 
excitedly than ever. 

‘ 4 There’s something doing, I’ll bet,” said Tom. 
“This place is a lot bigger than it looks from the 
water.” 

The three rejoined their delighted friend, and found 
themselves on a small plateau, with a view of the sea 
to the south. Ahead were thick woods, mostly spruce 
and balsam. The dog frisked along, was lost in the 


26 


WHERE THE DOG LED 


woods, reappeared again, and presently brought them 
out on the other side. 

The three explorers stopped. In front of them was 
a good-sized summer cottage, built of gray shingles. 
And on a stretch of springy turf before the house stood 
a young man. The man had a long, shining rapier in 
his hand and was making lunges at the air. 

The dog also had stopped and was rubbing his 
shaggy coat against Rodney ’s leg. The only sound on 
the hill-top was an occasional muttered exclamation 
from the young man as he danced back and forth. 

The man was a striking-looking fellow. He wore 
riding-breeches and puttees and gleaming russet boots. 
His white silk shirt was open at the throat and the 
rolled-up sleeves showed slim, muscular arms. His 
hair was black and rather long. He seemed as supple 
as whalebone ; tall, slender, wiry ; the rapier itself 
seemed no more graceful than he as he bent forward, 
drew back, parried an imaginary thrust, drove again at 
his opponent. 

His back was turned to his audience, and the duel 
went on for fully five minutes before the dog let out a 
loud, peremptory bark. The fencer whirled round. 
For an instant he appeared startled, then he grinned 
and lowered his blade. “Ah, gentlemen, you take me 
27 


REFUGEE ROCK 


unawares. The good Caesar has brought you here no 
doubt/ ’ 

4 'If Caesar’s the dog, you’re right,’ ’ said Rodney. 
"We didn’t know that anyone lived along here.” 

The man lowered his rapier, and drawing a silk 
handkerchief from his pocket wiped his face. 6 6 Caesar 
is the dog,” he said, smiling. "As for anyone living 
along here, I can assure you that except for my little 
household the place is quite solitary. ’ ’ 

A gentleman, a foreigner to judge from something in 
his appearance and an accent in his speech, a good fel- 
low — so the three mates sized him up. 

"We’re off on a cruise, the three of us,” explained 
Tom. "Our boat’s moored off shore and we thought 
we’d camp out on your beach.” 

The man was now twisting the ends of his small black 
mustache. "A delightful thing to do,” he said. "I 
know of no pleasanter occupation than sailing a small 
boat. But since the good Caesar has been so thought- 
ful as to bring you here, may I not have the pleasure 
of offering you tea or lemonade on my porch?” 

No one could decline such a polite invitation. The 
three mates went forward and as each shook hands 
with his host each told the man his name. "Thank 
you, thank you,” said the fencer. "As for myself, I 
28 


WHERE THE DOG LED 


am called Pierre Romaine. I was taking my daily ex- 
ercise, you know. How quickly the arm grows stiff, 
and the wrist — ah, my friends, the wrist is more than 
nine-tenths of the battle.’ ’ 

With his rapier tucked under his arm, Romaine led 
his guests up to his porch. A number of comfortable 
wicker chairs were standing about and he waved 
toward them. ‘ ‘ Make yourselves at home, I beg of you. 
I will rejoin you in a few minutes.” 

The three did as they were bid. Caesar stretched 
himself across Rodney’s feet. Stephen winked at 
Tom. “ Roddy was wise all right, wasn’t he? Pretty 
nice — running into refreshments like this. What do 
you make of him?” He jerked his head in the 
direction of the door through which Romaine had 
vanished. 

“I like him,” said Tom. “Of course, he’s a little 
queer.” 

“Wish I knew something about fencing,” put in 
Rodney. “It looked awfully exciting, dancing back 
and forth the way he did.” 

There appeared on the porch a servant, a tall and 
solemn-looking man, bearing a tray with tea-things 
and a pitcher of lemonade. These he set on a table. 
In silence the three watched him and waited until he 
29 


REFUGEE ROCK 


had withdrawn again. “ Pretty smooth,’ ’ observed 
Tom. “I’ll bet Mr. Romaine has a mighty good time 
out here.” 

Then the host returned. He had put on a purple tie 
and a Norfolk jacket made of many colors, which gave 
him a decidedly gay appearance. “Ah,” he said de- 
lightedly, rubbing his hands together, “Simmons has 
been quick with the things. Simmons is a jewel. On 
my word, I don’t know how I’d ever manage to get 
along without Simmons. ’ ’ 

There was a frank enthusiasm about this Pierre Ro- 
maine that was most engaging. The three mates felt 
no longer like strangers, but like old friends. 

“Teal” inquired the host. “It’s rather nice tea; 
not the kind you get at the grocers’ nowadays.” 

Each of the three boys, however, voted for lemonade. 

“Ah, well,” said Romaine, filling their glasses from 
the pitcher, “I fancy you know you own tastes best. 
Where I come from; however, we think there’s nothing 
like tea, nothing so refreshing, so cooling, so deli- 
cious. ’ ’ 

“Where do you come from?” asked Rodney in his 
direct way. 

The young man took a sip from his cup and a bite 
from a toasted cracker before he answered. “Per- 
30 


WHERE THE DOG LED 


haps it was indiscreet of me to say that much. My 
tongue is apt to be careless. , ’ 

“I knew you weren’t an American,” said Stephen. 
4 ‘Anyone could tell that.” 

“So?” said Romaine ; and for the first time a musing 
look came into his dark eyes. 4 4 Can I ask you three to 
keep a secret?” 

The three heads instantly nodded. 

4 4 I’m not supposed to be living here at all. I don’t 
own this cottage. Simmons procured it through an 
agent. Simmons does the marketing at the village on 
the mainland. The only other person here is the col- 
ored hoy Dan. And you three are the first visitors I’ve 
had this month.” 

4 4 We saw two fishermen down on the beach,” said 
Tom. 4 4 And they told us there was nobody on the 
island.” 

4 4 Fishermen!” echoed Romaine. 4 4 What were they 
doing here?” 

4 4 They were just rowing out to their smack.” Tom 
looked around. 4 4 You can’t see the boat. It’s hidden 
by those pines.” 

4 < Hm. Now I wonder—” began the young man. 
4 4 Simmons,” he called. 4 4 Simmons, come out here.” 

The solemn servant appeared. 

31 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Simmons, my friends here tell me they saw two men 
down on the beach this afternoon. What do you know 
about it?” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pierre, but I know nothing about 

it.” 

“Ah, ah, Simmons.” Romaine shook his forefinger 
warningly. “Remember that eternal vigilance is the 
price of liberty. I don’t remember who said that, but 
it fits our situation very aptly. These two are re- 
ported to be fishermen ; but you know, Simmons — you 
know — ” 

“Yes, Mr. Pierre, I know. I’ll inquire of Daniel.” 

i ‘ Send him out here, ’ ’ ordered the young man. 

A couple of minutes later the colored boy arrived. 
Romaine put the same question to him that he had 
already put to Simmons. 

“I dunno nothin’ ’bout ’em, Mistah Pierre,” said 
Daniel. “I was over to the town this afternoon. I’se 
mighty sorry, sah. ’ ’ 

“It appears that I must depend on Caesar then. It 
was Caesar who discovered my three friends here.” 

“Yas, sah. Caesar am a mighty clevar dog. An’ 
did he invite the three young gen’lemen up here?” 

“You mean he’s not very wise to be so hospitable? 
I quite agree with you, Dan. But we’ll forgive him 
32 


WHERE THE DOG LED 


this time. These young men are all right. They’re to 
be treated as guests as long as they care to stay.” 

“Yas, Mistah Pierre.” At a wave from his master 
the colored boy withdrew. 

Romaine surveyed the three boys, a quizzical smile 
curling his lips as he noted how absorbed and intent 
each of them was over what was happening. “Well,” 
he said, “you’re wondering why I’m so mysterious 
about all this, aren’t you? I haven’t the least objec- 
tion to telling you. It ’s because I trust each one of you 
as I do Simmons and Dan. I think I’m a pretty good 
judge of character. You’ve given me your word that 
you’ll keep my secret, and I’m entirely satisfied to rely 
on that.” 

“You needn’t be at all afraid that we’ll tell what we 
know about your being here,” Tom spoke up promptly. 

“And we don’t really know anything — except that 
you are here,” said Rodney. 

Romaine took a good look at the sandy-haired boy 
whose face and arms were covered with sun-blisters. 
Rodney appeared to amuse him; and back of his amuse- 
ment was a genuine liking. “Ah, yes,” he said. 
“That is so, isn’t it? To tell the truth I am a bit 
lonely. Simmons and Dan are very good fellows, but 
they’re not exactly companions, as I might say. I 
33 


REFUGEE ROCK 


haven’t seen anyone of my own sort for a month, and 
I’m naturally a very sociable person.” Here he 
cocked one of his long legs over the arm of his chair 
and clasped his hands behind his head. “What would 
you think if I should tell you that I’m a refugee? In 
the strictest confidence, of course.” 

“Of course,” echoed Rodney. “We’d never tell a 
soul. ’ ’ 

“A refugee from what?” demanded Stephen. The 
word had a delightful sound to him, but he was natu- 
rally suspicious of anything that savored of mystery. 

“Ah, I don’t know that I could go so far as to tell 
you that. But it’s a fact that this island is my refuge, 
and that I don ’t want certain people to know I ’m here. 
That’s the long and the short of it, my friends. So 
when you sail away from here I’ll ask you to forget 
that you ever encountered such a man as Pierre Ro- 
maine.” 

“I say,” put in Rodney, “if you’re in some sort of 
trouble why couldn’t we help you out?” 

“Spoken like an American gentleman,” answered 
Romaine. “I’m sure I’d ask no better helpers than 
you three. But, you see — ” Here he shrugged his 
shoulders. “The truth is that I’m almost as much in 
the dark as you are as to when or how I might need 
34 


WHERE THE DOG LED 


assistance. I have simply to wait here and see what 
happens. And waiting is very slow business. Mean- 
time I amuse myself fencing, in case any of my enemies 
should presently appear.’ ’ 

Tom, feeling that this surprising man had said all 
that he meant to say, now stood up. “It was mighty 
good of you to let us in on your secret, and to give us 
lemonade. No one shall know you’re here through 
any of us. ’ ’ 

“Not a peep will we peep,” said Stephen. 

Rodney disengaged his feet from Caesar, who ap- 
peared to have fallen asleep. “If you’re really a refu- 
gee, Mr. Romaine, I’d like nothing better than to see 
you come out safe.” 

“Thanks, thanks.” The man with the purple tie 
beamed delightedly. “And I’d almost be inclined to 
urge you to make me a visit here if you weren’t off on 
a cruise. And a cruise does need the water, doesn’t 
it? Not a steady old rock sticking out in the 
ocean. ’ ’ 

The three shook hands with their host and departed. 
Romaine waved them a farewell and Caesar wagged his 
tail from the top step of the porch. Into the woods 
they went and soon were on the slope that led down to 
their beach. 


35 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Well,” said Stephen, “I thought we’d run into 
some kind of adventure if we had old Roddy along. ’ ’ 

“A refugee — ” mused Rodney. “A refugee from 
what? You don’t suppose he’s gotten in wrong with 
the law?” 

“He doesn’t look like that sort,” said Tom. “I’m 
sure he’s a foreigner, for all he speaks such good 
English. And foreigners are always getting mixed up 
in queer things, you know.” 

“I wish I knew what it was.” Rodney’s brow was 
furrowed with thought. “You don’t suppose it has 
anything to do with those two fishermen, do you?” 

“I don’t suppose anything about it, you old sleuth,” 
said Stephen. “Pierre Romaine doesn’t mean to tell 
you any more than he has ; and how are you going to 
find out what’s the truth?” 

That seemed a conclusive answer. And as they had 
now reached the place where they had left their provi- 
sions and their appetites were demanding supper the 
three set to work building their fire, fixing their oven, 
and getting out the food. Further discussion of the 
rock’s mystery must wait till they had fed. But each 
of the three was secretly wondering what it could be 
that had brought the man of the rapier to that particu- 
lar spot. 


36 


Ill 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 

S UPPER of fried bacon and scrambled eggs, 
baked sweet potatoes, toast, coffee and apricot 
preserves produced in the crew of the Penguin the feel- 
ing that everything was going very well. The sun had 
set to the west of the rock, but the little bay was bright 
with the wonderful tints of the summer afterglow. A 
bonfire was ready for lighting whenever they should 
need it. And having decided to sleep on shore instead 
of on the boat the three had cut a supply of hemlock 
boughs and pared off the tips and feathery branches. 
These, with blankets over them, would make as soft 
beds as any campers could wish. 

Stephen, sitting cross-legged in the dry, warm sand, 
finished scraping the bottom of the jar that had held 
the apricots and wiped his knife on a bunch of beach- 
grass. ‘ ‘ If you were to ask me, ’ ’ he said, ‘ ‘ I ’d say that 
our friend on the hill-top was a Frenchman. They ’re 
great hands at fencing, you know.” 

4 ‘His name sounds like it,” agreed Tom. “But 
37 


REFUGEE ROCK 


what would a Frenchman be doing way over here?” 

* ‘Ah, there you’ve got me. Perhaps Roddy’s been 
thinking up an answer while he’s been eating. He 
hasn’t talked much.” 

They both looked at Rodney, who, with a sweater 
doubled under his head, was lying on his back, looking 
up at the sky. 

“How about it, old scout?” said Tom. “You’re the 
deep thinker of the party. ’ ’ 

“Well,” said Rodney slowly, “I’m of the opinion that 
he made some enemies over in Europe' and that he’s 
afraid they’re coming over here to take him back. As 
to his being a Frenchman, I wouldn’t like to say. And 
of course we don’t know whether Romaine’s his real 
name. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Cautious as ever, ’ ’ chuckled Stephen. ‘ ‘ You ought 
to be a lawyer. They ’re always saying ‘ I wouldn ’t like 
to say this’ and ‘I’m not so sure about that.’ ” 

“Well,” retorted Rodney, “you asked me a question. 
If you know any better answer why don’t you let us 
have it?” 

Over the quiet water came the chug-chug-chug of 
a motor. The sound was to the south of them; the 
boat, if it came from a boat, was hidden by the next 
point of land. 


38 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 


All three looked in the direction of the chug-chug, 
but after a few minutes the noise ceased. 

“ Seems to me this neighborhood isn’t as much de- 
serted as our friend on top of the rock thinks,” said 
Tom. 

They were all still looking to the south when a step 
on the shingle back of them made each one start and 
glance hastily round. The solemn-faced Simmons 
stood there, wearing a fuzzy red and green striped cap 
that made an odd contrast to his sober black coat and 
trousers. 

4 ‘Hello!” said Stephen. “Are you out for an eve- 
ning stroll?” 

Simmons bobbed his head and came up to the camp- 
ers. “I trust you young gentlemen will pardon me,” 
he said. “To tell you the truth, I was a bit uneasy.” 

“About Mr. Romaine?” questioned Rodney. “And 
our coming here ? ’ ’ 

“Not so much about your coming here,” was the 
answer, “as about what you said in regard to the two 
men you saw on the beach and the smack you men- 
tioned seeing off shore.” 

“The smack was gone when we came back,” said 
Tom. 

“I’m glad to hear that.” Simmons seated himself 
39 


REFUGEE ROCK 


on a log partly covered by sand. 4 ‘ Mr. Romaine is not 
always as cautious as he should be.” 

“Well, I’m sure he didn’t tell us very much,” put in 
Stephen. “All we know is that he’s some sort of a 
refugee.” 

“I don’t make the least criticism of his confiding in 
you young gentlemen, ’ 9 said Simmons in his * suave 
manner. “I believe that the more friends he has the 
better. But I don’t think he keeps sufficiently on the 
lookout for enemies.” 

“You mean the two fishermen?” suggested Rodney. 

The man in black shrugged his shoulders and made 
an expressive gesture with his upturned hands. 

“You know, Mr. Simmons,” said Stephen, “our 
friend Roddy here is remarkably canny. He’s the 
greatest little detective along the coast of Maine.” 

“Indeed?” Simmons looked admiringly at Rodney, 
who flushed even under his lobster-like sunburn, but 
paid no other attention to Stephen’s joke. “If it 
were possible then to secure your friend’s interest in 
Mr. Romaine ’s situation — ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, it ’s quite possible, ’ ’ said Stephen. ‘ ‘ Provided 
you let him know the facts in the case.” 

‘ 4 Ah, that ’s the difficulty. ’ ’ The servant took off his 
gaudy cap and thoughtfully scratched his head. “I 
40 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 


know that Mr. Romaine regards you all as friends — 
and yet it might be unwise to let you know precisely 
how matters stand/ ’ 

“Is Mr. Romaine a Frenchman ?” Tom asked 
bluntly. 

“Not precisely,’ ’ answered Simmons. “His mother 
was French, and he has lived considerably in Paris. 
It was there that he first took me into his service, eight 
years ago. Previous to that I had been valet to Lord 
Hartlepool. I come from Yorkshire myself.” 

Simmons replaced his cap carefully on his head while 
the three waited for more information. 

“His father was Russian, and had great estates in 
the south of that country, along the Black Sea. They 
call the place the Crimea. I was there with them for 
a while. And then came the Revolution, and every- 
body who could got out. Mr. Romaine chose America ; 
he has a taste for strange places. He is a man of re- 
markable spirit. I think he would like nothing better 
than to go hunting with some of your native Indian 
tribes.” 

Stephen chuckled. “I’m afraid he won’t get the 
chance, Mr. Simmons. Most of our Indian tribes are 
weaving baskets out on reservations in the west.” 

“Indeed? Is that so? Really I know very little 
41 


REFUGEE ROCK 


about your great country. I suggested England as a 
place of refuge to my master, but he would have 
America. He said he had spent a number of seasons in 
London, and found the climate too damp.” 

Rodney bent forward. “But if he got safely out 
of Russia, why should he need to keep in hiding 
here ? ” 

“Ah, he has enemies. You see, he knows certain 
things his enemies would like very much to know. And 
there again he did not think wise to follow my sugges- 
tion. I was of the opinion that a large city was the 
best place to hide ; but he said he preferred a place in 
the open, where he could keep track of everything that 
went on around him. ’ 9 

“I think he was right,” stated Tom. “I don’t see 
how he could have a better place than this rocky island, 
with open water on every side. ’ ’ 

“But look here,” said Rodney, “why should you get 
stirred up because we saw those two men on the beach? 
They weren’t Russians.” 

Simmons shook his head. “His enemies have 
agents. They belong to a band that has confederates 
everywhere. Any man may be on his track.” He 
smiled slightly. “I make an exception for you three 
young gentlemen. It’s not to be supposed that you 
are in the league against him. You are exactly what 
42 . 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 


yon seem. That, and the fact that yon have promised 
to keep this matter a complete secret, is what lead 
me to speak so openly. I feel the need of making 
friends for my master. He may need them so much 
at any time.” 

4 Tt ’s very good of you to speak that way about us, ’ ’ 
said Stephen, nodding. He shot a glance at Rodney. 
4 4 But it ’s a little rough on you, old scout, to know that 
you’re exactly what you seem. Nothing mysterious 
about you, in spite of that pink disguise you’ve been 
putting on.” 

4 4 Well, Mr. Simmons — ” began Rodney, completely 
ignoring Stephen’s flippancy, as was his custom. 

But at this point something happened. Simmons 
suddenly looked round to the south, and then, without 
a word, quickly rose and hurried across the shingle to 
a near-by clump of pines. 

44 Hello!” muttered Tom. 44 What in thunder — ” 

The English servant had vanished. He seemed in 
fact to have glided across the beach and disappeared 
in the woods before any one of the three knew what had 
happened. 

4 4 The original gumshoe man!” Stephen whispered. 
4 4 Gee, but his nibs certainly can make tracks!” 

43 


REFUGEE ROCK 


4 ‘Perhaps there’s a reason/ ’ said Rodney. “Some- 
body’s coming.” 

The other two followed Rodney’s glance and saw that 
a man was climbing over the rocks at the southern end 
of their little beach. He was a tall and awkward- 
looking person. As he came nearer they discovered 
that he wore a scraggly reddish beard and that his 
clothes were almost ready to be handed over to a scare- 
crow. 

“Howdy,” said the stranger. “It’s a nice night for 
a picnic. ’ ’ 

“It’s a real large night,” assented Stephen agree- 
ably. 

‘ ‘ That your boat out there f ’ ’ 

“Yes, that’s our boat.” And in return for the 
stranger’s question Stephen asked another. “Was it 
your motor we heard out on the water a little while 
ago?” 

The man twisted his beard and eyed the three as if 
he were trying to make up his mind about them. He 
looked as if he had always lived on the water, almost 
as if he had lived in it, for his coat and trousers were 
discolored with brine. Before replying to Stephen’s 
question he took a short, stumpy black pipe from his 
pocket, filled it with tobacco and lighted it. “Yes, that 
44 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 


war my motor/ ’ he said. “I left her in the cove 
t’other side o’ the pint.” 

“ Making yonr rounds of the lobster pots and fish- 
nets, I suppose?” said Rodney. 

“Not exactly, young feller. I do that ’round sun- 
up, before you’re out o’ bed.” 

As he vouchsafed nothing more about his present 
business the campers kept silent, wondering what he 
would do. 

“Seen any folks about here?” The stranger looked 
out over the water, as if he asked the question more for 
the sake of friendly conversation than because he was 
in need of information. 

None of the three answered. 

“Well, it ain’t likely you would have. There don’t 
many people come to this here place. I heard tell in 
the village there was a smack seen off the island to- 
day.” 

Still the campers kept their discreet silence. 

“What time did you fellers land?” 

“About five this afternoon, or a little later,” said 
Tom. 

The stranger grunted. “ ’Tain’t likely you would 
have seen the smack then,” said he. “I guess she got 
away some time before sundown.” He smiled, in an 
45 


REFUGEE ROCK 


evident attempt to be friendly. 4 4 You ’ll be sailing 
away yourselves to-morrow morning most likely. 
Having a good time ? ’ ’ 

4 4 We can’t complain,” said Stephen. 44 A life on the 
rolling wave’s the life for me.” 

The stranger grinned. 4 4 I’ve been on the water for 
forty odd year myself. Fishin ’s my business. Fishin ’ 
an’ lobsterin’. ’Most everyone in these here parts 
knows Ben Craddock. That’s my name. I live 
around to the village, Swannock’s Neck. Time was 
when there was quite some money in my business. I 
sold to the city markets. But lobsters ain’t what they 
used to be.” Sadly he shook his head. 4 4 No, siree, 
lobsters ain’t at all what they used to be.” 

His remarks seemed to call for no answer. The 
three mates looked at the elderly fisherman, and Ben 
Craddock regarded them with melancholy eyes. 

4 4 Well, I guess I’d better be getting on. I thought 
mebbe you’d seen some o’ the men from that smack. 
I’m a right curious feller. I always like to know 
what’s goin’ on. I was wonderin’ what the boat was 
doin’ here.” He looked along the shore to the north 
speculatively. 44 Seein’ I’m here, I guess I might as 
well take a stroll. So long, friends. Hope you enjoy 
yourselves.” 


46 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 


With that the fisherman stuck his pipe in his mouth 
and resumed his walk, soon hidden from view by the 
headland just beyond. 

Nothing was said until he had disappeared. Then 
Stephen, hugging his knees in his hands, rocked back 
and forth. “Well, lads,” he said, “for a deserted 
island this place has got more people coming and go- 
ing than any spot I ever saw. First those two fellows 
with the dory, then dog Caesar and Mr. Romaine and 
Simmons and Daniel, and now this queer old lobster- 
man Ben Craddock. It may be deserted all right, 
but it’s certainly not the sort of place you’d call 
lonely. ’ ’ 

“Craddock’s looking for something,” observed Tom, 
his eyes still on the point of rocks to the north. 

“Now I wonder — ” said Rodney, in a brown study, 
staring at the particles of sand he was filtering through 
his fingers. 

There was the soft thud of footsteps directly behind 
them. “Ah, young gentlemen, here I am again. 
You’ll pardon my taking French leave the way I did, 
but I was anxious not to be seen by a stranger. May 
I ask what you learned from him?” 

It was Simmons again, Simmons come back from his 
hiding-place in the woods. 

47 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“It’s all right this time,” said Stephen. “But it’s 
getting dark, and if you keep up this habit of creeping 
along the beach without making a sound you’ll throw 
somebody into fits. ’ ’ 

“I beg your pardon,” the servant answered respect- 
fully. “I’ll give a little cough next time to warn you 
of my coming.” He looked at Rodney. “May I re- 
peat my inquiry as to what you learned from the red- 
bearded stranger?” 

“He’s a lobsterman by the name of Craddock, and 
lives at the village. He came out here in his motor- 
boat to see what he could learn about the doings of that 
smack we saw off the island this afternoon. At least, 
that ’s what he said, ’ ’ concluded Rodney. 

“Ah, that’s what he said !” echoed Simmons, his tone 
indicating his doubt of the truth of the lobsterman ’s 
words. “But if I may put the question, what affair 
is it of his what the ship was doing around here ? ’ ’ 

‘ i He said he was a curious chap, who always wanted 
to know what was going on, ’ ’ added Rodney. 

“Aye, he’s curious ; I’ll not deny that. But what do 
you think of him yourself, young man ? ’ ’ 

Rodney shook his head. “I don’t know. It doesn’t 
look to me as if he was on the track of Mr. Romaine.” 
“Anybody may be on his track, sir. That’s what 
48 


THE LONE FISHERMAN 


makes it so difficult to guard him. I suspect everyone. 
That is, everyone except you three young men.” 

“Well,” said Tom, “Craddock did look to me like a 
pretty nosey old party. What’s to hinder our seeing 
what he’s up to, if he is up to something? It’s pretty 
dark now. We can do a little spying as well as any- 
one else.” 

“That suits me,” said Stephen, springing up. 
“Will you come along, Mr. Simmons?” 

The Englishman nodded. “I like the idea. But I 
may as well tell you in advance that if we come upon 
anyone I shall take to hiding. This Craddock person 
knows you three are here, but he doesn’t know about 
me.” 

“Sure. You can turn ghost any time you’ve a mind 
to,” Stephen assured him. “Fade away like the Che- 
shire Cat or turn into a tree. If we find Craddock 
doing anything he oughtn ’t to we three can handle him. 
Come along, lads.” 

The three made for the ledge of rocks to the north, 
Simmons following at a discreet distance. 


49 


IV 


A SHOT IN THE NIGHT 

T HE island was wrapped in darkness; there w T as 
no moon, only the light of the stars. To the 
right the waves lapped along the beach and gurgled 
over the pebbles in the shelter of the rocks. To the 
left were the depths of the pines and beyond the high 
black cliffs. Craddock had disappeared ; there was no 
sign or sound of him as the explorers surmounted the 
ridge and came down to the next stretch of sand. 

Tom, who was in the lead, remembered that they had 
seen the two men that afternoon apparently coming 
from a gully that ran nearly at right angles into the 
cliffs. When he arrived at this point he whispered to 
Rodney, and then turned in the direction of the open- 
ing. Soon he was pushing through bushes and then 
through the branches of pines. There was a rough 
sort of path, but it was largely overgrown with bram- 
bles. Progress was slow, for it was very dark here, 
and the fingers of briars and trees caught at clothes 
and had to be torn away. 

50 


A SHOT IN THE NIGHT 


Several times they stopped, and once Stephen whis- 
pered over his shoulder, “Are you there, Simmons ?” 

“Yes, sir, I’m still here,” came the answer. 
“Though if you’ll pardon my saying so I don’t know 
what we ’re doing up here in the brush. I don ’t believe 
this is where Craddock went?” 

i ‘ Tom ’s got some idea, ’ ’ Stephen muttered. i ‘ When 
he has an idea I’ll take a gamble on seeing the thing 
through. ’ ’ 

For a hundred yards or so they went along the gully 
in the darkness. Then Tom halted. “This is as far 
as we can go,” said he. “I’ve come to the face of the 
rock. There seems to be a sort of an opening in it, 
but it isn’t wide enough for anybody to squeeze 
through. Besides that, I’m sure I wouldn’t want to 
squeeze in except by daylight.” 

“ I ’ve got some matches, ’ ’ said Rodney. “I’m sorry 
we left the flashlight out on the boat.” 

“Strike a light, and let’s see where we are,” sug- 
gested Stephen, who, with Simmons, now stood close 
behind the other two. 

Rodney struck a match, and shielding it with his 
hand, thrust it forward. It revealed what Tom had 
announced, two bare rocky walls of the cliff, separated 
by an opening a couple of feet wide. But one of the 
51 


REFUGEE ROCK 


walls jutted out in the shape of a small shelf and 
on this stood a board. Across the board in staring 
blue paint were printed the words: “Beware Dyna- 
mite ! ’ 9 

The four gazed at the sign an instant before the 
match went out. “Dynamite !” whistled Tom. “Be 
careful how you handle those matches, Roddy ! 9 9 

“I suppose it’s hid away there in the cliff ,’ 9 said 
Rodney. “But what in thunder would anyone mean 
by putting dynamite in a place like this ? 9 9 

“What do you know about that, Simmons?” Ste- 
phen demanded of the man close beside him. 

“Nothing at all, sir. It’s the first I ever heard of 
it. Dynamite ! You don’t suppose they were meaning 
to blow up the whole island, do you ? ’ ’ 

“Who do you mean by 'they’?” Stephen asked. 

“Mr. Romaine’s enemies. But no, sir, I’m certain 
they wouldn’t be intending anything like that. It 
wouldn’t suit their plans.” 

“Well, we’ve certainly stumbled on something 
queer,” said Stephen. “Why in the world did you 
ever think of coming way up here, Tom ? ’ ’ 

“I thought those two men we saw this afternoon 
were heading out of this gully,” was the answer. 
“Now I’m sure this was where they came from.” 

52 


A SHOT IN THE NIGHT 


“ There ’s something doing all right,” stated Stephen 
positively. “ 1 Beware Dynamite!’ I’ll beware it. 
How about hitting the back trail?” 

“I don’t see that we can learn anything more here,” 
said Rodney. 

4 ‘ Very good, Simmons.” Stephen put his hand 
on the Englishman’s arm and pushed him round. “I 
guess you can feel your way out through the bushes. 
Don ’t be in a hurry. ’ ’ 

Single tile, they rewound through the pines and 
underbrush. Simmons moved carefully, vines were 
constantly catching at his trousers. But presently 
they caught the sound of the surf again, and then ahead 
through the branches saw the stars shining over the 
sea. 

Simmons stopped just as they reached the beach. 
“In my opinion, young gentlemen,” said he, “that sign 
we’ve seen and that ship offshore to-day and that chap 
named Craddock are all concerned in some way with 
my master. Perhaps you understand now how ticklish 
this business is. And I beg of you to try to impress 
that view of it on Mr. Romaine, if you have the chance. 
He is so reckless sometimes. It would be just like him 
to come down here and bandy words with strangers, 
when he ought to be lying hidden in his house. ” 

53 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Or to invite them to a fencing match ?” suggested 
Stephen lightly. 

Simmons turned. “Ah, if it came to that — man to 
man with the foils — I shouldn’t have much doubt as to 
the outcome. He ’s a rare hand with the rapier, is Mr. 
Pierre ! They tell me he was a master at fence before 
he ’d turned eighteen. ’ ’ 

“Why doesn’t he stay on his porch and defy anyone 
to come and get him?” asked Tom. 

“Wait till you know him as well as I do,” was the 
servant’s reply. And with that he led the way on to 
the sand at the edge of the pines. 

The four turned toward camp, stepping more freely 
now they were clear of the brush. But before they had 
gone ten yards there was the crack of a firearm from 
the darkness behind them. A bullet went screaming 
by. Instinctively they jumped. Simmons lurched for- 
ward in the soft sand and came down on his knees. 

“What’s that? Someone shooting?” he whispered. 

“Yes!” cried Tom. “Get down in the bushes 
quick ! ’ ’ 

All four crouched by a dune, shielded by beach- 
grasses. There they lay, waiting, listening. 

“You see,” said Simmons after several minutes, 
“there is someone meaning to do us harm. If he 
54 


A SHOT IN THE NIGHT 


didn’t mean to hit us he meant to scare us out of our 
skins. ’ ’ 

More minutes they waited. Then Tom cautiously 
turned and looked over the rim of the dune. “I don’t 
see anybody. I guess it was a warning not to monkey 
with the dynamite gully. I’ll steal along through the 
pines till I reach the rocks. You fellows come after 
me, one at a time.” 

With plenty of space between them the four slipped 
through the woods and came without further adventure 
to the headland. In the light of the stars it looked as 
if they had their own beach to themselves, but there 
was no telling what might lurk in the forest at its back. 

“It’s time I was getting up to Mr. Bomaine,” said 
Simmons. “I’ll have something to tell him of this 
night’s work. Good-evening, sirs. I don’t know but 
what if I was in your place I’d favor sleeping out on 
your boat instead of on the shore. ’ ’ 

“Oh, we’re all right,” answered Tom. “These peo- 
ple may be after Mr. Bomaine, but they certainly won’t 
bother about us.” 

“There’s no telling, sir.” Simmons shook his head 
dubiously. “That’s the only way to put it. There’s 
absolutely no telling. But pleasant dreams to you all, 
wherever you be. ” 


55 


REFUGEE ROCK 


The man disappeared by the path that led up the 
hill. The three mates walked to their piled-up bonfire 
and their three hemlock beds. The summer night was 
warm, the waves were crooning a gentle lullaby under 
the bright stars. 

“Well, it is a pretty pickle !” said Stephen. “Who 
would ever have thought we’d run into anything like 
this on the coast of Maine? Talk about your adven- 
tures ! ’ ’ 

“We don’t have to make ’em up for Roddy, do we?” 
said Tom. ‘ ‘ Got our hands full without half trying. ’ ’ 

Rodney grunted. “Dynamite and shooting ! I won- 
der if it was Ben Craddock who took that shot at us?” 

1 ‘ The old scamp ! ’ ’ exclaimed Stephen. 

“And yet — I don’t see how it could have been,” 
Rodney continued. “It didn’t look to me as if he had 
a pistol with him when he was talking to us here. ’ ’ 

“Pistols don’t take up much room,” said Tom. 
‘ ‘ They make them very small nowadays. ’ ’ 

“But why would he shoot at us?” Rodney objected. 
“He knows what we’re doing here — that we’re only 
spending the night.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t us he meant to frighten,” sug- 
gested Stephen. “Maybe it was his nibs, old Sim- 
mons.” 


56 


A SHOT IN THE NIGHT 


‘ ‘ Do you believe all that yarn Simmons told us about 
Mr. Romaine?” asked Tom. 

“Of course I do,” said Rodney. “He isn’t clever 
enough to make up such a story, and besides, it fits in 
with everything Mr. Romaine told us himself. ’ ’ 

“Yes,” Tom admitted. “Well, if it’s true, then all 
I can say is that it’s the queerest mess I ever heard of. 
And Simmons is scared of what these people may do 
to his master.” 

“Oh, he’s scared all right,” agreed Stephen. 

“And I think he’s got every right to be,” Rod- 
ney declared positively. “I like old Simmons and 
I like Mr. Romaine, and I wish we could help them 
out.” 

“That’s how I feel,” said Tom. “But I’m hanged 
if I can see how we’re going to do it.” 

They were standing about the pile of firewood while 
they talked. Now Rodney drew his box of matches 
from his poocket and struck a light. He stooped and 
carefully held the match to some dry grass and shav- 
ings that were tucked under the wood. 

As the little flames began to shoot up he nursed them 
with his cap. Soon the driftwood had caught and the 
fire sent a circle of light over the sand. Rodney 
walked around the pile, pushing the logs and 
57 


REFUGEE ROCK 


branches into place. Suddenly he gave an exclama- 
tion. “ Hello! What’s this? What the dickens is 
this ? Somebody ’s been here ! ’ ’ 

* 4 Where?” cried Stephen. 

Rodney was pointing to a stick stuck into the sand 
several feet from the bonfire on the ocean side. The 
top of the stick was split and held a piece of paper. 
Rodney pulled out the paper and unfolded it. “ ‘You 
fellers had better be on your way in the morning, ’ ’ ’ he 
read aloud. “ ‘It won’t do you any good to stay 
round this island.’ ” To make sure of the message 
he read it over again. 

“Well!” exclaimed Stephen. “What do you say to 
that ! Of all the nervy notes ! ’ ’ 

“Somebody doesn’t want us around here,” Tom 
stated judicially. “It certainly isn’t Mr. Romaine or 
Simmons. Do you suppose it’s Ben Craddock?” 

“I think it’s the same one who fired that shot,” said 
Rodney. “But I’m not certain it was Craddock. 
There are some other people mixed up in this.” 

“If you ask me, I’d say it was Mr. Romaine ’s 
enemies,” volunteered Stephen. “They don’t want 
us around here when they try to pull off their attack 
on him.” 

Rodney crumpled up the paper and threw it into 
58 


A SHOT IN THE NIGHT 


the fire. 4 ‘Well, how about it, fellows? What are 
we going to do ? ’ ’ 

“I vote to stick it out,” declared Stephen. “Of 
course we’re off on a cruise; hut I don’t like to be 
scared away by anybody. ’ ’ 

Tom nodded vigorously. “Same way I feel. Let 
’em come and drive us off if they can!” 

“Fine!” chuckled Eodney. “I vote for that too. 
They won’t do anything to-night, and in the morn- 
ing we can see what ’s doing. ’ ’ 

“Want to bunk on the Penguin or ashore?” asked 
Tom. 

“We’ll bunk right here,” declared Stephen. He 
looked around at the ledge of rock, at the bushes 
and pines, at all the island that was beyond the light 
of the fire. “We’ll stay right here!” he announced, 
as if he was giving warning to anyone who might be 
hiding there. 

They fixed the fire for the night, they lay down on 
their beds of boughs. Warm and comfortable, they 
looked up at the great expanse of sky, pricked out 
with stars innumerable. Far away over the water 
was a revolving light, one long gleam, then a space, 
then three short flashes. Except for the murmur of 
water the night was very still. 

59 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Yet none of the three fell asleep at once. So many 
things had happened since they had landed on the 
island that afternoon! So many more things might 
happen before they left it! Yet in time the waves 
lulled them into drowsiness, and before the late moon 
rose the crew of the Penguin were in the land of Nod. 


60 


V 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 

T HE three mates slept till the sun was well up in 
the sky, then took a morning swim in the cold 
water, and breakfasted on the beach. Some of the 
sense of mystery of the night before had worn off 
in the sunlight; the island, in spite of its secrets, ap- 
peared as quiet and safe as any other part of the 
coast they had cruised along. They joked about Sim- 
mons and Craddock, the dynamite sign and even the 
pistol shot, as they ate their bacon and drank their 
coffee in comfort on the sand. “I’d have half a mind 
to sail away in the good old Penguin,” said Tom, “if it 
wasn’t for that blooming note warning us to leave.” 

“We can’t take a dare like that,” Stephen declared. 
“We might go out in the boat for the day, but we 
ought to stick around here for a couple of nights at 
least.” 

Rodney nodded. “I don’t want to go till I know 
more about this business. You don’t run into such an 
adventure every day.” 


61 


REFUGEE ROCK 


‘ 4 Spoken like a true scout !” said Stephen. “Rod- 
dy’s right. What do you suggest we do now?” 

“Well,” began the sunburned lad, and cast a 
thoughtful glance at the woods behind them. 
“Well — ” he started again. “Hello, here comes Mr. 
Romaine. ’ 9 

Romaine appeared in the path that led up to his 
cottage. He was dressed in white flannels, with white 
shoes and a Panama hat. He waved his hand to the 
campers and came hastening up. “Good morning, 
friends. I hope you slept well. No ghosts or hob- 
goblins disturbed you in the night ? 9 9 

“Hid Simmons tell you what happened?” asked 
Stephen. 

“Yes, the good Simmons reported everything. A 
wonderful man, Simmons; though possibly a trifle 
slow-witted at times. Very English, Simmons; thor- 
ough-going and all that. But when it comes to using 
a delicate hand, well, I fancy that Simmons has more 
thumbs than fingers. Very reliable, however, and de- 
voted to his master. And what can a master ask 
more?” 

“He thinks you take too many risks,” said Rod- 
ney. 

The man in white flannels smiled gaily. “Ah, but 
62 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


what is life worth without its risks'? Now I fancy 
that it’s a love of adventure that has kept you three 
here.” 

“I guess it is,” Tom conceded. “After Simmons 
left us last night we found a note stuck on a stick near 
our pile of firewood. The note warned us not to stay 
around here.” 

“There, you see!” cried Romaine. “And in spite 
of the note you are staying around here this morning. 
I think we are birds of a feather, my friends.” He 
sat down on a log, and taking off his hat fanned him- 
self with it. “If there’s danger about, I want to know 
where it comes from. I don’t want to be caught like a 
rat in a trap.” 

“You could easily leave the island,” Rodney pointed 
out. 

“And run hither and thither like a frightened rab- 
bit?” Romaine shook his head. “No. The wise gen- 
eral picks out with care the place where he’ll make his 
stand, and then sticks to it. I’ve picked out this 
island. It may be a foolish fancy of mine, but I’ve 
determined on it. Refugee Rock, that’s what I call 
it. And if anyone wants to get me, let him come and 
try to take me here.” 

The three boys nodded their approval. They liked 
63 


REFUGEE ROCK 


this remarkable man better and better the more they 
saw of him. 

‘ ‘ Well, I must say,” Stephen remarked reflectively, 
looking out at the Penguin, which was rocking lazily 
on the shining water, ‘ ‘ the whole thing ’s about as clear 
as mud to me. We saw that smack yesterday and the 
two men on the beach and good old Ben Craddock and 
the dynamite sign, and we heard the bullet and found 
that message; but how it all goes together I don’t 
see. If your enemies are about here, what do you 
think they’re up to?” 

Romaine shrugged his shoulders. “It may seem 
ridiculous, but I know nothing more about that than 
you do. It’s a pleasant situation, isn’t it?” Almost 
immediately, however, a serious look chased away the 
smile that usually hovered in his eyes. “I do know 
enough about it, though, not to want to be caught 
napping. I’d like to have a look at the waterfront 
of the old Yankee port of Swannock’s Neck.” 

“We’d be glad to sail you over there,” Tom sug- 
gested. 

“That would suit me better than rowing ashore in 
my own boat. It ’s not so conspicuous. ’ ’ 

A quarter hour later the Penguin had left the cove 
and was rounding the steep wooded heights of the 
64 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


island. A dozen other islands, all apparently smaller 
than Refugee Rock, dotted the water between that 
place and the mainland; and through these Romaine 
directed Tom the best course to take. 

The fringe of islands protected the little harbor of 
Swannock’s Neck. As they approached this village it 
appeared to be mainly a long, straggling waterfront, 
with three or four lanes of weather-beaten frame 
houses rambling inward, topped by a hill on which sat 
a white church with a high steeple, and a couple of 
other buildings, which might have been school-houses 
or other meeting places. 

As for the waterfront itself, there was a row of 
old, more or less dilapidated wharves and piers, a col- 
lection of fishing-boats of assorted sizes and patterns, 
and several huddles of old boathouses, warehouses 
and chandlers’ shops. There were few people about, 
those to be seen were chiefly men working over nets 
or dories on the floats or on the shingles between the 
wharves. 

“They tell me this used to be quite a place in the 
old ship-building days,” said Romaine, “but it’s pretty 
much gone to seed now. Fair sized vessels put in 
occasionally for cargoes of lumber. There’s one of 
them, that schooner low in the water. There’s a float 
65 


REFUGEE ROCK 


I use just in front of the barn with the rooster wind- 
vane. ’ ’ 

Tom made for the float, and brought the Penguin 
neatly up to the dock. The four climbed ashore and 
made their craft safe. “Now we’re here,” said Tom, 
“I’d like to lay in a few provisions. Where can I 
find a store?” 

“That funny old pitched-roof place with the gilt 
sign.” Romaine pointed it out. “It looks about 
ready to fall to pieces, but they sell good stuff. Sup- 
pose we divide forces.” He looked at Rodney. 
‘ ‘ How ’d you like to come with me? I thought we might 
happen to meet Craddock, and you could introduce 
me.” 

“Sure thing,” said Rodney. “I’d like another 
chance to talk to that fellow.” 

Stephen and Tom went up the street in the direc- 
tion of the store, and Romaine and Rodney sauntered 
along the wharves. There was no one to stare at 
them, the occasional man they passed, busy with boat 
or net, simply cast them a glance and went on with 
his work. “A delightful place,” said Romaine, “so 
quiet, so contented. But you’ll notice we don’t see 
many young men about here; they all go to the cities.” 

Swannock’s Neck was so very quiet that Rodney 
66 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


didn’t see how Romaine could possibly expect to pick 
up any information. The boats were interesting, how- 
ever, and so were the old storehouses, most of them 
with battered signs and odd-looking junk visible at 
the doors and windows. 

Romaine was inquisitive. He wanted to poke his 
nose into the chandlers’ shops, to stop and look at the 
collections of things that had to do with ships; sev- 
eral times he snooped through the little alleys that 
ran back from the shore. “I love the smell of tur- 
pentine and tar,” he explained, “and I’m always look- 
ing for the old figureheads of ships that sail the seas 
no more, beautiful mermaids and such amphibious 
creatures that have lost their paint and grown a 
golden-green from salt. Ah, now here’s such an old 
lumber loft. Let’s see if we can’t discover some treas- 
ure.” 

They had come to this particular place by an alley. 
A rusted anchor stood outside the door, leaning against 
the post, as if the ramshackle old shed needed such as- 
sistance to keep it from being blown away in the win- 
ter northeasters. Inside was the pungent odor of 
oakum. The two went in, and found themselves 
surrounded by a collection of sea-junk. Romaine gave 
murmurs of delight as. he prowled about. Rodney, less 
67 


REFUGEE ROCK 


interested in such things, went over to the cobwebbed 
window, which had two panes missing. 

The window gave on to the water and Rodney could 
see the low sides of the schooner that Romaine had 
pointed out as they neared the town. The wash of the 
crew was flapping in the wind; a young fellow, in 
dirty white duck trousers and a blue shirt, was empty- 
ing a pail over the rail. As Rodney watched he saw 
a couple of men come down from the bow and step 
ashore. They strolled along, and then stopped to look 
back. A third man, on board the schooner, had hailed 
them, and they were waiting for him. 

Rodney caught a sharp exclamation at his shoulder. 
“Ah,” whistled Romaine, “I was right, I was right!” 

“What’s the matter?” asked Rodney. 

For answer his companion nodded toward the 
schooner. “The gentlemen outside there. They are 
the matter; and matter enough, if anyone should ask 
you.” 

Rodney had already been interested in the two men 
who had come ashore from the schooner; now he re- 
garded them more closely. The nearer one was tall, 
with a black beard and big bushy black eyebrows that 
stood out in striking contrast to his rather pale, olive- 
hued face. Clearly he was not from New England ; his 
68 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


curious slanting eyes, the constant gestures he made 
with his hands, his shoulders, and even his head, and 
his costume all spoke of the foreigner. His cap was 
of dark cloth and very baggy and loose ; his long coat, 
the same bottle-green as his trousers, was open, and 
revealed a red waistcoat; his boots were of russet 
leather and had checked cloth tops. There was noth- 
ing about him that looked like the sailor, though he 
might perhaps have been the captain, dressed in his 
shore clothes. 

His companion was fat and ruddy, a strutting little 
fellow in a blue flannel suit and a white canvas cap. 
He was smoking a short black pipe, which he kept 
tucked in a corner of his mouth, and he talked with- 
out taking it from between his teeth. 

“That fellow / ’ muttered Romaine, pointing at the 
smoker, “is Nicholas Veedol, once public-house keeper, 
and now goodness knows what.” 

The third man had by this time joined the other 
two. He wore sailor’s clothes, was dark and cat-like 
in motion, and his face expressed more intelligence 
than either that of Yeedol or the bearded man. Im- 
mediately he began to talk, and Rodney caught the 
thick, guttural phrases. 

< * Three of a kind ! 9 9 whispered Romaine. ‘ ‘ The last 
69 


REFUGEE ROCK 


fellow is Paul Disdoff. I don’t know the name of the 
tall one. Three fine rascals, friend Rodney. And 
what do you suppose they are doing here ? ’ ’ Romaine 
gave a chuckle. “Looking for me! They’ve come a 
long way to find me. How I would like to introduce 
my bonny Lady Isabelle to them!” 

“Who’s she?” asked Rodney. 

“Lady Isabelle? Why, she’s my bright and shin- 
ing rapier. I should take Disdoff first, and pink him 
on the cheek by way of salutation. Then I would 
press each button on his jacket, — delicately, of course, 
but so he would feel the pressure. And then I would 
give him his choice of jumping into the sea or being 
carved like a fowl. As to fat Nicholas Veedol, he 
would be simply a pin-cushion for my lady. The third? 
Well, he has a long arm; with a sword in his hand he 
might prove interesting. Ah, what are they saying?” 
Romaine pressed close to the window. “I think I 
caught my name. ’ ’ 

The big man was gesticulating. Yeedol shook his 
head and glanced about. Romaine pulled Rodney 
down to the floor. 4 4 They might see us, ’ ’ he whispered. 

The two in the shed crouched, while Romaine cau- 
tiously peeped at the men outside. Presently he stood 
up. “They’re moving on,” he announced. “I won- 
70 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


dered about that schooner as soon as I laid eyes on 
her, and I marked this house as just about opposite. 
Well, at least I know more than I did before. And 
now tell me, were any of those three the fishermen 
you saw on the island yesterday V 9 
“No. I’m sure of that.” 

“Ah, that’s interesting. Then perhaps the fisher- 
men were innocent visitors after all.” 

“It looks very much as if they knew of that place 
with the dynamite sign,” said Rodney. 

Romaine sat down on a barrel, and for several min- 
utes regarded the tips of his white shoes in thought- 
ful silence. “If only I could contrive to get these 
three to visit me at my cottage when I’m ready for 
them. The difficulty is that they have brains ; at least 
one of them may have. Always remember in an af- 
fair like this, friend Rodney, that our opponents may 
have just as good brains as we have ourselves. It’s 
difficult to think that, but it pays in the long run. ’ ’ 

“It seems to me,” said Rodney, “that if you really 
believe that those men are plotting to do you some 
harm, the right thing to do is to go to some officer 
of the law and tell him your suspicions. He might 
have them arrested, or warned away, or something.” 
“Tut, tut! my dear fellow!” Romaine shook his 
71 


REFUGEE ROCK 


finger playfully at his companion. “Pm afraid you 
take the same matter-of-fact view of things that the 
good Simmons does. I shouldn’t have expected that 
of one of your age and adventurous disposition. Sup- 
pose I went to an officer of the law and did as you 
suggest; I wouldn’t have a single bit of proof that 
these three fellows meant to do any harm to any- 
body. I know why they’re here; but I couldn’t possi- 
bly convince him that my opinion was right. They’re 
not exactly what you’d call well-dressed gentlemen; 
but then that’s true of a great many other people. In 
his eyes they would probably be merely three foreign- 
ers, who happened to have come to Swannock’s Neck 
on board a sailing-vessel. Put yourself in his place, 
Rodney. Isn’t that so?” 

“Yes, I suppose so,” Rodney admitted doubtfully. 
“But still—” 

“But still you believe in my story.” Romaine 
jumped up and clapped his friend on the shoulder. 
4 ‘ That ’s right ! I know you do ! Well, now I think we 
might leave this musty museum and take a breath 
of fresh air.” 

They went out the back way, up the little alley, 
and soon Romaine turned between two sheds on to 
the waterfront. From here they had a good view of 
72 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


the fore part of the schooner; but beyond noticing 
that her paint was greatly in need of scrubbing they 
could draw little information from her looks. “It’s 
no use to go on board,” said Romaine. “In fact 
that’s the last thing I should .think of doing. Sup- 
pose we go back up through the village. That’ll give 
us a chance to dodge if we see those three rascals.” 

“They don’t know me,” said Rodney. “I’ll go 
along by the water and meet you where we left the 
Penguin .” 

“As you say. Keep your eyes open. But I fancy 
that’s unnecessary advice to an American.” 

Romaine turned away, and Rodney went on by him- 
self. He eyed the man with the pail on the schooner’s 
deck, and saw that the latter had now stopped his 
work and was leaning, half-asleep, against the taffrail. 
When he reached the stern he casually observed the 
vessel’s name. She was the William Howitt of New 
York. There was nothing odd about that; in fact 
there was nothing unusual about the schooner at all, 
barring the three men who had come ashore from 
her. Then, as he turned again he suddenly found 
himself confronted by the big man in the bottle green 
clothes. The man had just stepped out from a shop 
and was holding an open map in his hands. 

73 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Rodney regarded the big man curiously. His in- 
terest was so apparent that the other stopped and 
made a snarling noise that sounded like “Hein I” 

For a second Rodney stared; then said, “Oh! Is 
that your ship out there ?” 

The big man glowered, stared at Rodney, in his turn, 
and then, with a marked foreign accent, answered, 
“Yes, she's my ship. Bound to Halifax with hides. 
Why do you want to know?” 

“Oh, nothing. She seemed such a big ship to put 
into such a small place as this.” 

“Hein?” snarled the man again. “That's our busi- 
ness.” 

“Of course it is,” smiled Rodney. “I hope you 
didn't mind my asking the question.” 

The other relented; his black eyes, under their big, 
bushy brows, softened; and he nodded. “You live 
here? Nice place. First class harbor.” 

“No, I don't live here. I'm just a visitor, like your- 
self.” 

“Ha, a visitor. You have friends? On the shore? 
Or the islands perhaps?” The big man's eyes looked 
out at the fringe of islands, in the direction of Refugee 
Rock, the top of which could just be seen from where 
they were standing. 


74 


THE MEN ON THE DOCK 


Rodney thought he had talked enough. He shook 
his head and smiled. ‘ 4 Good day,” he said, and 
strolled on. Not until he was a hundred yards away 
did he stop and look back. The man in bottle green 
was still standing in front of the shop, studying his 
map. 

“ Hello!” sang out a voice from the beach. ‘ 6 What 
do you make of that feller?” 

Rodney glanced round. On an overturned dory be- 
fore him sat Benjamin Craddock, and he was point- 
ing at the big, bearded man. 

“ What do you make of him yourself?” Rodney 
retorted. 

“Come down here while I teli you,” was Craddock’s 
answer. “There’s no good shouting when you talk 
of other folks. I’ve got something might interest you 
to know.” 


75 


VI 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 
HADDOCK had his little black pipe in his mouth 



and continued to puff away at it while Rodney 


jumped down from the embankment and joined him 
at the overturned dory. The fisherman looked 
extraordinarily wise. He was gazing, through puck- 
ered eyelids, at. the schooner William Howitt, and 
scratching his bearded cheek with the nail of his fore- 
finger. For several minutes after Rodney came up 
to him Craddock sat silent ; then he took the pipe from 
his mouth and rubbed the shiny bowl against his faded 
coat-sleeve. 4 6 By golly ! ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ It beats all what 
men’ll do for a little silver!” 

“Do you mean that big man with the beard?” Rod- 
ney asked. 

Instead of answering that question Craddock asked 
another. “What did he say to you? I saw you two 
talking.” 

“You couldn’t get very much from what he said. 


76 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


He belongs to that ship, and she’s bound for Halifax 
with hides. I think he’s a Russian.” 

Craddock nodded slowly. 1 ‘ Well, I was up in the 
store there — Bill Jenkins’ store — the one he just came 
out of ; and that fellow came in with two mates. They 
asked a powerful lot of questions ; all about the islands 
round here, and who lived on them. Bill’s a pretty 
good talker himself, he told them a heap more than 
I’d have told them. And as near as I could make out 
they’re mightily interested in the man who’s living 
in the cottage over on the island where you’re camp- 
ing. Know that man, do you?” 

Craddock glanced quickly at Rodney, so quickly in 
fact that the latter had no chance to evade the ques- 
tion. “Why yes, I know him.” . 

“Seems like a right nice fellow, quiet and minds 
his own business. ’ ’ 

Rodney nodded. 

“Now what is it those three men from that schooner 
want over on your island?” 

Rodney laughed ; the question was tired at him with 
point-blank directness. “I thought you had some- 
thing to tell me,” he said, “but you’re only asking 
questions.” 

Craddock’s peering eyes grew less intense. He put 
77 


REFUGEE ROCK 


his hand on Rodney’s knee in a conciliatory fashion. 
“It's no good they’re up to. I’m moral sure of that. 
I’ve known sailormen for a heap o’ years, and those 
three aren’t the proper kind, my boy. They’re land 
sharks, they are. It might be well to let your friend 
know they ’re after him. ’ ’ 

“ I shouldn’t wonder if he did know. He’s over 
here somewhere. He came over in our boat.” 

“Hm,” said Craddock, and again he gazed along 
the waterfront at the William Howitt. “I wonder if 
it’s a matter of holding him for a ransom.” 

“I don’t know any more about that than you,” an- 
swered Rodney. 

Craddock pondered for several minutes more, then 
stuck his pipe in his pocket and stood up. “I want 
to have a look at that place of his. I haven’t been up 
to that cottage for a long time.” 

“ You’d better tell him then. He doesn’t like to 
have strangers come prowling about.” 

“I’m no stranger. Everybody in this here village 
knows me.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it would be all right if he knew why 
you were going out there,” Rodney hastened to add. 
“If you’ll come along with me we’ll find him. He’s 
probably waiting down at the Penguin now.” 

78 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


But neither Pierre Romaine nor Tom nor Stephen 
nor even the Penguin herself, were waiting at the 
float. There was no sign anywhere of the smart look- 
ing knockabout; only the native, Swannock’s Neck 
variety of boat, craft in need of fresh paint, and new 
sails, and general overhauling, were visible in the 
neighborhood. 

4 ‘ Hello,’ ’ said Rodney, “ that’s funny! I’m sure 
this is where we left her.” 

A very ragged small boy was lying flat on the 
float, dangling a fish-line over the edge, his face so 
close to the water that he seemed to be watching 
the fish swimming around his bait. At the sound of 
Rodney’s voice he screwed his head around. ‘ ‘ Them 
friends o’ yours give me a nickel to tell you they 
couldn’t wait no longer. They said they’d be sendin’ 
over for you bimeby.” The urchin looked down into 
the water again. 

4 ‘ What was their hurry 1 ’ ’ said Rodney. ‘ ‘ I haven ’t 
been so slow.” 

“Dunno,” answered the urchin without moving. 

“Something must have happened. I don’t under- 
stand it.” Rodney glanced at Craddock. “It wasn’t 
that bearded fellow that frightened them off. Do 
you suppose it was his two pals?” 

79 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“My boat’s here,” answered the fisherman. “I’ll 
take you over to the island, and we’ll find out quick 
enough. ’ ’ 

Craddock’s dory, smelling strongly of fish, wheezing 
loudly as to its engine, was soon chug-chugging out 
from the harbor, and poking its cocky bow through the 
channel between islands and rocks. Rodney, sitting 
beside the owner in the stern, wondered that the loud 
vibrations of the motor hadn’t driven every fish and 
lobster away from that part of the coast. 

The fisherman knew the little port on the west side 
of Refugee Rock where Romaine kept his own boat. 
He ran his craft in there and tied her up to the single 
plank pier that jutted out into the water. “There’s 
the path up to the house,” he said, pointing to a trail 
between juniper bushes. “I used to come over 
here with fish pretty nigh every week some years 
ago. ’ ’ 

They followed the trail in its winding ascent up to 
the plateau and the cottage. Dan, the colored boy, 
was peeling potatoes at the back door and throwing 
the skins to Caesar, who pounced on each one as if 
it had been a mouse. “What you want ’round here?” 
demanded Dan; and then, recognizing Rodney, he 
showed all his teeth in a wide grin. “Mistah Pierre he 
80 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


done go ’way this mornin’. I dunno when he’ll be 
back.” 

“ We’ll wait,” said Rodney. “Is Simmons in the 
house?” 

“I reckon he is, sah. Jest step in at the door an’ 
you’ll find him.” 

Rodney and Craddock went in at the back door, 
traversed a passage, and came into a good-sized liv- 
ing room that ran the width of the cottage. In one 
corner of this room stood a dinner table, set for the 
next meal. Simmons was sitting at the table, reading 
a big book spread open before him. 

‘ ‘ Good morning,” said Rodney. “We wanted to 
see Mr. Romaine, but Dan says he hasn’t got back 
yet.” 

Simmons regarded Craddock with evident suspi- 
cion, and Rodney hastened to explain who his com- 
panion was. Then he told what he knew of Romaine ’s 
doings that morning. 

Simmons kept shaking his head. ‘ ‘ I don ’t like it, sir. 
No, I don’t fancy it at all. Mr. Romaine jumping 
about this way, and me not knowing what to expect 
next. I’ve been reading history, and though I dare 
say it’s all very well in its way, I must say that 
the more I learn of strange places and strange people 
81 


REFUGEE ROCK 


the less I fancy them. I do wish we were safe back in 
England, where nothing oncommon happens.” 

4 4 Oh, come now, ’ ’ said Rodney, with a laugh. 4 4 Mr. 
Pierre has a lot of good friends here. Mr. Craddock 
wants to help him, and there isn’t much that goes on 
around here that he doesn’t know about. He’s told 
me so himself.” 

4 4 Well,” Craddock spoke up cautiously, 44 I know 
what goes on most of the time, but I’ve got to admit 
that I’m a bit baffled right now. Them men in the 
schooner and a couple of other things — ” He shook 
his head, and, as if magnetized by the action, Simmons 
also started again to shake his head very doubtfully. 

4 4 Come, come,” said Rodney, 44 I won’t be scared by 
you two. Let those fellows come. We can take care 
of them.” 

4 4 Man to man we could,” Simmons agreed. 
4 4 There’s no man living could stand up to Mr. Ro- 
maine with a sword in his hand, and I’m not so slow 
at using my fists myself. But who’s to tell what these 
people have got in their minds.” 

4 4 Well, maybe we’ll find out soon.” Rodney turned 
to the front door. 4 4 You go on with your reading. 
Mr. Craddock and I will sit out on the porch till Mr. 
Romaine gets back.” 


82 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


The two ensconced themselves in the big wicker 
porch chairs and looked out at the ocean, where dis- 
tant white sails shone like points of silver in the 
sun. Craddock began to spin yarns, and Rodney lis- 
tened, at first alert, then more drowsily, as the fisher- 
man^ deep voice rumbled on. 

For an hour or more they waited, then Simmons 
appeared. 4 ‘ It’s past luncheon time,” he said. “I 
thought perhaps you would care for a bite to eat.” 

“That’s a bully thought, Simmons.” Rodney 
sprang up. “It seems ages since breakfast. Lead 
us to the feast.” 

They sat down at the table and Simmons provided 
them with a cold lunch. 

Afterwards they returned to the porch again. “I’m 
going to have a look round,” said Craddock. “You 
stay up here. I’ll be back pretty soon.” 

“All right.” Rodney threw himself down on a 
swinging seat, curled up his legs, and was sound 
asleep before the tall figure of the fisherman had dis- 
appeared behind the grove of pines. 

Presently he became dimly aware that something 
soft and warm was moving slowly back and forth 
across one of his legs. He opened his eyes and found 
Caesar rubbing against him. Now the dog thrust his 
83 


REFUGEE ROCK 


nose into Rodney’s palm and began licking his fin- 
gers. 

Rodney lay there, wondering how long he had been 
asleep and what had become of Stephen, Tom, and Mr. 
Romaine. The cottage and the hill top were per- 
fectly qniet. Twisting his head, he could see nothing 
moving nearer than a couple of white-winged ships 
far out on the ocean. 

Could it be that his two mates and his new friend 
had got into some sort of trouble? He sat up, and 
gently pushed Caesar off the seat. Immediately the 
dog looked up at him and then pointed his nose in the 
opposite direction. ‘ ‘ So you’ve got something to show 
me, have you, old sport?” said Rodney. “Well, go 
to it. I’ll come along.” 

Caesar led the way down the steps and round the 
cottage. Some fifty yards behind the house was a 
level stretch that had once been used as a tennis 
court. Here Simmons and Dari were hopping about 
like a pair of jumping- jacks. Rodney stopped, stared, 
then began to laugh. The colored boy and the solemn 
English servant were apparently fighting a duel m 
deadly earnest with swords made of wood. 

The fighters were very intense and perfectly silent. 
Simmons had his left arm raised in the manner most 
84 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


approved for fencers and was slowly pivoting round, 
while Dan, circling about him, was trying to hit the 
Englishman ’s shins with his blunt-ended sword. Sim- 
mons guarded his legs, and now and then lunged for- 
ward at Dan, but always so slowly that the latter had 
plenty of time to jump away, which he did in a crouch- 
ing fashion that resembled a cat with an arched 
back. 

“Fine! Fine!” cried Rodney, shaking with laugh- 
ter. 

Instantly Caesar darted forward, leaped on the duel- 
ling-field, and butted his head at Simmons’ legs from 
the rear. The Englishman came down on his knees 
in a most undignified posture. 

“Hold on, Dan!” cried Rodney. “Caesar didn’t 
play fair.” 

The colored boy turned about, his face shiny with 
his exertions. “I wasn’t goin’ to hurt him. We-all 
was jest pretendin ’. Mistah Simmons was learnin’ me 
to fight like Mistah Pierre.” 

Simmons rose from his knees, his expression some- 
what abashed. “I am trying to train Daniel in the 
art of self-defense, as it is practised by gentlemen in 
Europe. Incidentally it is a splendid way to keep 
oneself fit.” 


85 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Why, I thought you two were trying to hack each 
other to pieces/ ’ chuckled Rodney. “Those swords 
look pretty dangerous.’ ’ 

“Oh, no, sir,” said Simmons, as solemn as ever. 
“You will observe they have no sharp points, and we 
make it a rule never to strike at each other above the 
waist. The worst that could happen would be a few 
bruises about the legs.” 

“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” said Rodney. 
“I’ve been snoozing out there on the porch. What 
time is it?” 

“It must be about four,” answered Simmons. 
“And no sign yet of Mr. Pierre. I’m beginning to 
get uneasy.” 

“And Craddock has disappeared too. I think I’ll 
take a look round the island. ’ ’ 

Rodney set off for the shore, but instead of going 
by the path to the south, as he and his friends had 
gone the day before, he kept off to the north. There 
was no path here, the ground was covered with juniper 
and bay, growing close to the rock-ledges and easy to 
make one’s way through. He soon found that the 
island fell away to the sea in gullies, and that each gully 
made a fairly good hiding-place. The only alterna- 
tive to following a gully was to climb down over the 
86 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


cliffs, and these were so steep as to be most unin- 
viting. 

Making his way through one of these little gorges 
he presently came to the water at a point some dis- 
tance to the north of where they had camped the night 
before. He went south on the beach, and as he rounded 
the next headland saw to his surprise that an empty 
dory was pulled up on the sand. The boat looked ex- 
actly like the one they had seen the previous after- 
noon. Rodney stopped to take his bearings. Yes, 
there do the right was the place where he and Tom, 
Stephen and Simmons, had pushed through the bushes 
and found the dynamite sign. 

The men must have come again. Perhaps they were 
even now somewhere in the ravine that led to the 
rock with the opening. Noiselessly he stole to the 
edge of the bushes. 

There was nothing to be seen or heard. Presently 
he wedged his way in a little further. 

Patiently he waited. Then again he pushed on. 

Parting the bushes he looked up the gulley. He 
caught sight of something moving; it was a man’s 
coat. Now he saw that the man was Craddock, and 
that he also was apparently working his way quietly 
inland. 


87 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Rodney whistled. He saw Craddock stop quickly 
and glance back. Rodney waved his hand. 

Craddock was going on again. Rodney hurried to 
catch up with him, but a bush tangled about his feet 
tripped him. He fell forward and his knee struck a 
sharp rock. The pain made him catch his breath; he 
sat on the ground, rubbing his wounded knee and 
muttering. 

Then, to his great surprise, a hand seized him by the 
shoulder and pulled him over sprawling on his back. 
He started to yell, but another hand, big and smelling 
of tar, was clapped down on his mouth. 4 4 Shut up, 
you young rascal! Shut up!” muttered a voice. 
“ Another squeal from you, an’ I’ll teach you better 
manners ! ’ ’ 

Rodney perforce kept quiet. He realized that a 
man had come up back of him along the gulley and 
that this man had him at a disadvantage. He made 
no effort to struggle, and his captor, after scowling 
down into his face, removed his hand from his prison- 
er^ mouth. 

“Now you get on your hind feet an’ come along 
with me,” ordered the man. “But I give you fair 
warning, another squeal from you or any monkey 
business an’ I’ll sit on you like a ton o’ bricks.” 

88 


RODNEY AND CRADDOCK 


Rodney forgot the cut on his knee. He stood up, 
helped by the man, who still kept a tight grip on 
his arm. 

The man pushed Rodney in front of him back along 
the ravine. The footing was none of the best, and the 
hand on his sunburned arm made Rodney squirm ; but 
he kept his mouth shut. He had no chance to won- 
der about the man or plan what he should do ; progress 
through the bushes and over the rocks claimed all his 
attention. 

“ There/ ’ said the man, and shoved his prisoner out 
on the beach. “Now you stand right still, an* don’t 
make a hullaballoo. I’ll tend to all the noises.” 

The man put two fingers in his mouth and gave a 
whistle. Within a minute a couple of other men 
emerged from the trees and joined them. In a 
few words Rodney’s captor explained what had hap- 
pened. 

“An’ we told them to keep away from here!” the 
captor concluded. “Looks to me like we ought to teach 
’em a lesson.” 

“Just as you say, Jim,” said one of the others. 
“We cert’nly don’t want ’em around here for a day 
or two.” 

“There’s room for him in the smack,” Jim con- 
89 


REFUGEE ROCK 

tinned. “An’ that’ll show the rest of ’em we don’t 
mean to be spied on.” 

4 ‘Suits me,” said the third man. 

“Good enough.” Jim eyed Rodney with a menacing 
look. “We told you fellows we didn’t want you 
around here. Now if you go along quiet with us 
there’ll be no harm coming to you. But if you 
don’t — ” His expression made his meaning per- 
fectly clear. 

“All right,” said Rodney. “I’ll do what you say. 
Only please don’t grip my arm again. It’s sore as 
blazes.” 

Jim grinned. “You’re a young sailor. Sunburn 
don’t mean nothing to me. But I won’t touch you 
if you act like a gentleman.” 

And, acting like a gentleman and a good sport, Rod- 
ney went with the men down to the dory. When it was 
pushed out into the water he climbed aboard. With 
two men at the oars the boat was soon pulling away 
from the island. 


90 


VII 


ABOARD THE SMACK 

R ODNEY was leaning on the rail of a small-sized 
fishing smack, the kind that is built to withstand 
the gales of the North Atlantic Ocean. Not very far 
away was the shore of an island, rocky and studded 
with pines, very much like Refugee Rock, only smaller, 
and having no sign of any habitation. The dory had 
brought him out to the smack after half an hour’s 
rowing, and he realized that the vessel on which he 
stood must be completely hidden from Pierre Ro- 
maine ’s cottage. A quieter, more secluded place could 
hardly have been found anywhere; the only sound was 
the screaming of gulls as they flew about fishing over 
the shallow waters. 

It was the long summer twilight, the sea a glitter 
of colors, the western sky a constantly shifting and 
dissolving kaleidoscope of brilliant hues. The air was 
a trifle chill; he was glad he had worn his coat when 
he left the Penguin at Swannock’s Neck. His knee 
was a bit stiff and his arms and shoulders ached when 
91 


REFUGEE ROCK 


he moved them quickly. But he had nothing to com- 
plain of in his treatment by the men who had taken 
him prisoner; they had given him a good supper at 
the same table with themselves, and had joked with 
him pleasantly enough about his knowledge of sailing. 

But what were these men up to ? There were seven 
of them, the three who had come out in the dory and 
four who had been on the smack. Two he was sure 
were the same men Tom and Stephen and he had seen 
the afternoon they landed on the Rock, the fishermen 
with whom they had exchanged a few words. They 
still appeared to him to be fishermen, all those aboard 
the smack, the usual sort of such men with whom he 
was quite familiar all along the New England coast. 
If they were fishermen, what was it they were doing 
that was so mysterious and secret they wanted no one 
to watch them? That it had to do with the ravine 
that led to the dynamite sign he was certain; he was 
also sure that it was one of them who had fired the 
shot in the dark. 

They were doing something on Refugee Rock that 
they wanted no one to know of. Could it be some- 
thing connected with Pierre Romaine? If it was it 
seemed very odd that as yet they had apparently paid 
no attention to him. Did Craddock know something 
92 


ABOARD THE SMACK 


about them? Rodney recalled the mystery that Crad- 
dock had hinted at when he met the three boys on the 
beach the night before ; he also remembered that Crad- 
dock had left him up at the cottage in order to take a 
look around the island and that he had caught sight 
of Craddock in the ravine. Craddock had not told 
him all he knew, Rodney felt certain of that. 

Someone came up to Rodney. ‘ 4 Howdy, mate, ’ ’ said 
a voice. “What you stewin’ over? You’ve got a 
frown on your face big as a hawser. ’ ’ 

Rodney turned to find a young fellow, one of the 
smack’s crew, standing at his elbow. “Oh, I was just 
thinking. ’ ’ 

‘ 4 Not lonesome, are you ? It ’s a swell night. ’ ’ 

The young fellow was friendly. He had joked with 
Rodney at supper and had told him about a little village 
in Nova Scotia where he came from. Now he went 
on, looking over the water at the shore : ‘ ‘ They don ’t 
mean no harm to you, matey. They’re not such a bad 
lot. You see, we just have to be a mite careful. You 
keep your mouth shut and we do the same.” 

Was the sailor going to tell him something? 
“Sure,” said Rodney pleasantly. “They’ve treated 
me all right.” 

“There’s a man lives on that island where Jim 
93 


REFUGEE ROCK 


found you, one of these summer visitors — isn’t that 
so?” 

Then the sailor was not going to tell him something ; 
but instead was going to try to pump Rodney for in- 
formation. Well, two could play at this business of 
being clams. Rodney nodded. “ Seems to me I did 
hear there was some man spending the summer there.” 

The sailor turned, eyed his neighbor for a minute, 
and then burst into a laugh that could have been 
heard on shore. 4 ‘Oh my! Oh my! You’re all right, 
matey! You don’t mean to loosen up any more than 
we do, eh? Well, that’s perfectly square. But you 
did look solemn as an owl as you got off that little 
speech.” 

Rodney grinned good-naturedly. He and this young 
fellow understood each other pretty well. 

“My name’s Chris Wilkins,” said the sailor. “I 
don’t suppose you mind my knowing yours?” 

Rodney told his name. “And I was off on a cruise 
with a couple of friends when we camped out yester- 
day on that island. Funny, isn’t it, that I’m here on 
board your boat to-night and haven’t any idea what’s 
become of the others?” 

“You’re like the boy who ran into the wasps’ nest; 
he didn’t know what had happened till he got stung.” 

94 


ABOARD THE SMACK 


“It does seem like a wasps’ nest round here,” Rod- 
ney agreed. “But there’s an old saying that he laughs 
best who laughs last.” 

“That’s so.” Wilkins’ face suddenly grew sober, 
and as he looked away across the water he shook his 
head as if dissatisfied at something. Rodney, watch- 
ing him, thought that, no matter what mischief the 
crew of the smack might be up to, this fellow at least 
was not naturally bad. 

Night had now come, the gulls had ceased their fish- 
ing, the boat was riding quietly on a smooth sea. For 
a time Wilkins and Rodney chatted; then the sailbr 
took his companion down to the forecastle and showed 
him his bunk for the night. 

Rodney was not sleepy. He had had a good nap that 
afternoon on Romaine’s porch, the forecastle was 
warm and stuffy, the snoring of the sailors in their 
bunks was by no means a lullaby. Moreover he kept 
going over and over in his mind possible reasons for 
the crew’s presence in these waters and their evident 
desire that no one should know what they were doing 
there. After a time he slipped out of his bunk, noise- 
lessly pulled on his trousers and sneakers, got into his 
coat, and climbed the ladder to the deck. Everything 
was still. Standing in the shelter of the deckhouse he 
95 


REFUGEE ROCK 


cautiously looked about; surely there must be a look- 
out somewhere. Yes, now he made out the figure of 
a man, lounging on the rail to one side of the bow. 
The man looked like Jim, and was smoking a pipe. 

The only chances of escape were by stealing the 
dory or swimming to the little island that lay off the 
port bow. The first was out of the question. Possi- 
bly foreseeing that their prisoner might try to make 
off in the small boat the crew had removed the oars 
in Rodney’s presence when they came on board with 
him. He had no idea where the oars were now, and 
without oars the dory was useless to him. As to swim- 
ming — if he tried that it was more than likely that 
Jim would see him and threaten him with a pistol 
unless he turned back. 

Even if he reached the island, what could he do 
then? Most of these places were uninhabited, and it 
might be days before he could get anyone to take 
him off. 

There was no use in trying to escape at present any- 
how. But it was far pleasanter on deck than in his 
bunk, and so Rodney perched on a pile of rope and 
studied the vast map of the stars. 

Low down was a planet, very big and bright. Rod- 
ney watched that, and presently from behind a head- 
96 


ABOARD THE SMACK 


land he saw the black outline of a boat. The boat had 
a sail; she was skimming lightly along. She seemed 
to be about the size and shape of the Penguin . 

The boat was heading toward the smack. If she 
kept her present course she would come between the 
smack and the island. Very much interested, Rodney 
stood up and leaned on the rail. He was on the op- 
posite side from Jim, and the mast was between them. 

Nearer and nearer came the dancing boat. She 
was almost off the smack’s bow now. And then the 
conviction flashed on Rodney that the sailboat was the 
Penguin , and that Tom and Stephen were out hunting 
for him. 

Peering around the mast he saw that Jim also had 
observed the other boat. The man was standing up 
straight. He would certainly not give the strangers 
a welcome reception. For a couple of minutes Rodney 
considered what he could do; then he picked up the 
end of a rope that was lying coiled at his feet, tied 
one end tightly to a stanchion and let the rope drop 
quietly over the smack’s side. 

The sailboat was off the starboard bow now. The 
stillness was broken by Jim’s voice. “Ship ahoy I” 
came the guttural call. He was warning the strangers 
that the crew of the smack had seen them. “Ship 
97 


REFUGEE ROCK 


ahoy!” came the answering cry. The voice was un- 
doubtedly Tom’s. 

Rodney slid over the rail as lightly as a cat climbs 
over a fence. He let himself down the rope hand 
over hand until his feet touched the water. From 
there he could see that the sailboat had come about, 
that she was going to tack in his direction. 

‘‘What do you want? Keep off of here!” cried 
Jim’s voice. 

“All right! All right!” answered Tom. 

Rodney loosened his hold on the rope and slipped 
into the water without a splash. He had never swum 
in sneakers and clothes before, but the distance was 
not great. Noiselessly he struck out for the line the 
Penguin must take on this tack. 

Jim still stood in the bow of the smack, apparently 
satisfied that the knockabout was going to sail away 
without further parley. Even had Rodney been swim- 
ming directly out from the bow the lookout might not 
have seen him, and as it was the man was watching 
the sail and not the water off the smack’s stern. The 
Penguin held her course, passing the larger boat at a 
distance of some thirty yards. And then a voice sang 
out from the water, “Hello, Tom! Let me come 
aboard!” 


98 


ABOARD THE SMACK 


‘ * Great Scott, it ’s Roddy ! ’ ’ Round swung the boat 
and bobbed up and down on the water. 

On the starboard side was a head, only a few yards 
away. “Want any help?” muttered Stephen, leaning 
out of the cockpit. 

The only answer was a splash. Then a wet hand 
caught at the side of the knockabout, and a minute 
later Rodney was squirming on board. A couple of 
hands helped him up and pulled him over the rail. 

There were noises on the smack, a jumble of angry 
words and shouts from Jim. The knockabout’s skip- 
per paid no attention to them. He brought his craft 
instantly into the wind and caught up his former 
course. On the Penguin skimmed, leaving the smack 
and the yelling lookout farther and farther astern. 

“Good old Roddy!” said Tom. “Who’d have 
thought we’d find you swimming round in the water 
like a duck?” 

Rodney shook himself, patting his wet clothes with 
his hands. ‘ ‘ Why, hello, Mr. Romaine ! I didn ’t know 
you were aboard. Well, well, it’s a real party, isn’t 
it?” 

“You’re right, old fellow, it is!” Romaine gave a 
little laugh. “What is it the people around here say? 
Oh yes, I remember now. You did that trick as slick 

99 


REFUGEE ROCK 


as a pin. I didn’t hear or see you dive off that 
boat. ’ ’ 

‘ i Naturally you didn’t,” Rodney chuckled. “I slid 
down a rope and beat it out where I knew the Penguin 
would come. I happened to be on deck and heard 
Tom’s voice hailing the smack. I’ll bet that fellow 
Jim is good and mad now.” 

“You’re a pretty cute kid,” said Stephen. “But 
if you’ll take my advice you’ll cut down into the cabin 
and get on some dry things. That water isn’t any 
warm bath to-night.” 

Rodney went below, stripped, rubbed himself dry and 
got into fresh clothes. Meantime the Penguin sailed 
along until the smack was only a dot in the distance. 

When he came up on deck again the returned ad- 
venturer said, “I know you people are crazy to hear 
what I’ve been doing, but I’m not going to tell you 
till I find out what mischief you’ve been up to your- 
selves. That was a nice way to treat a fellow — give 
him the slip at the village and let him get taken by 
pirates ! ’ ’ 

“ So it was, ’ ’ said Romaine. 1 ‘ I owe you a good turn 
for that shabby treatment. After I left you this morn- 
ing I scouted around through the town, meaning to 
keep a safe distance from that chap Nicholas Yeedol 
100 


ABOARD THE SMACK 


and his friends. I got down to the wharf and found 
Tom and Stephen waiting for me. But I’d no more 
than boarded the Penguin when Veedol and Disdoff 
appeared in the offing. I think they recognized me, 
and I didn’t want to have any talk with them there. 
So I suggested to Tom that we leave word for you 
with a small boy who was fishing on the wharf, and 
clear out till those ugly ones went away. Did the 
boy tell you ? ’ ’ 

Rodney nodded. i ‘Yes. I ran into that big bearded 
fellow and then I found Craddock on the beach. He 
wanted to come out to your island, and when I found 
you’d left he brought me out in his boat. We had 
lunch at your cottage, and then Craddock started out 
for a little exploring.” 

“Well,” Romaine continued, “when we got back 
to Swannock’s Neck the boy said you’d left. So we 
went for a cruise round the islands. We had lunch on 
board, and must have reached the Rock a little after 
you set out from my house. We were on the porch 
when Craddock came dashing up, very much excited. 
He said he’d seen you kidnapped and carried away 
in a dory. So, after it got dark, we decided to try 
and locate your whereabouts. We sailed in and out 
and roundabout until by good luck we sighted that 
101 


REFUGEE ROCK 


smack. We were going to cruise around near her 
and see if we could pick up any information about 
you, when lo and behold, we picked you up from the 
sea. That’s all my yarn.” 

Rodney told his adventures. “It sounds pretty 
stupid, I must admit,” he concluded, “but I didn’t 
learn anything at all about what those men are do- 
ing. I T m sure it’s something crooked, but I haven’t 
the least idea what it is.” 

“And you a detective!” said Stephen. 

“Well, the plot thickens,” said Romaine. “It ap- 
pears we have two sets of unwelcome visitors hanging 
around my quiet island home.” 

Soon they sighted the Rock and headed for Ro- 
maine ’s landing-place on the western side. “You 
three are to come up and sleep in my house,” said the 
young man. “We’ve got a good deal to talk over.” 


102 


VIII 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 

I T was just about midnight when the Penguin 
docked, and a short time afterwards that the four 
started up the path toward the cottage. Romaine took 
the lead, for the trail was not very well marked. Soon 
the lapping water was below them, and they had come 
to the edge of the plateau. 

The path brought up at the rear of the house, at one 
end of the level stretch that had once been a tennis- 
court, and where Rodney had come upon Simmons and 
Dan fencing that afternoon. Pines made a wind shield 
here, growing in a semi-circle that prevented one see- 
ing the house until one was almost on it. But as the 
four came up through the woods they heard a dog 
barking, and when they reached the edge of the clear- 
ing they saw Caesar running back and forth and send- 
ing out loud challenging howls into the night. 

Pierre Romaine stopped, and gave a low, caution- 
ing murmur. 

Caesar stood still, his tail wagging violently. Then 
again he dashed forth, barking furiously. Soon he 
103 


REFUGEE ROCK 


stopped at the foot of the back steps, and the watchers 
could see that he was fairly bristling with indigna- 
tion. 

In the starlight a stick flew through the air, aimed 
at the dog by someone in the woods to the south of 
the steps. Caesar’s answer was a yelp that made his 
other howls sound like whispers. 

“Hello!” muttered Romaine. “What does that 
mean?” 

“Where’s Simmons?” whispered Tom. “He and 
Dan must have heard the racket.” 

“Dan can sleep through ’most anything,” Romaine 
murmured. “Look at that blessed dog now! He’s 
running straight at the place where the stick came 
from!” 

Caesar was charging his hidden enemy, but just be- 
fore he reached the pines three shapes emerged, each 
armed with a stick, and it looked as if the poor dog 
was in for a sound beating. Before the three could 
get around him, however, the back door of the house 
opened and Simmons appeared on the step. “Here, 
Caesar, here!” he called out. 

The answer was a loud yelp as the dog dodged a 
blow from a club. 

“I say, hold on there!” Simmons cried, as he saw 
104 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 


what was going on. 4 4 Don’t you touch that dog! 
What are you doing here?” 

One of the shapes, a big, bearded fellow, stepped for- 
ward. 4 4 Call off your dog, man,” he said. 4 4 We’ve 
come on a matter of business.” 

4 4 Aha, that’s our friend of the schooner,” Romaine 
whispered. 4 4 Don’t I wish I had my good Isabelle in 
my hand!” 

44 A matter of business at midnight?” Simmons 
snorted. 4 4 What do you mean by waking honest peo- 
ple out of their sleep this way?” 

4 4 Yes, a matter of business with the man who lives 
in this house,” came the stubborn response. 4 4 You 
go tell him there are three friends to see him.” 

By now the speaker and his two companions had 
walked forward. Caesar, making a circle, had joined 
Simmons at the steps and stood there, alert from 
nose to tail, growling like distant, intermittent thun- 
der. 

44 I shall do nothing of the kind,” the English servant 
said positively. 4 4 Friends indeed! Friends don’t call 
in this way. ’ ’ 

A shrill voice piped up. It came from the man 
named Paul Disdoff . 4 4 Tell him whatever you like, but 

get him out here. We have business with him.” 

105 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Yes, and he’ll have business with you, you scrawny 
rat, one of these fine days ! ’ ’ muttered Romaine in the 
trees. 

Simmons appeared to consider the situation. When 
next he spoke his tone was less angry. “As a mat- 
ter of fact the master is not here to-night. The 
house is in charge of the servants.” 

A guttural growl from the big man. “Huh! How 
do we know that? We’ll come in and see.” 

“Ah, you will, will you? I’d have you know that 
an Englishman’s home is his castle.” 

“Bully for Simmons!” whispered Stephen. “He’s 
made of the right stuff!” 

“We don’t want words with you,” announced the 
big man. The three walked nearer the steps, each 
swinging the stick in his hand. 

Around from the front of the cottage came some- 
one, Dan with his wooden sword. “Hi there, Caesar, 
what’s a goin’ on?” the colored boy asked in his gentle 
drawl. 

The men stopped. “Where’s this man called Ro- 
maine?” the big fellow demanded of Dan. 

“This man called Romaine?” Dan mimicked. 
“How should I know where he’s a-gone to?” 

“Br-r-r,” stormed the questioner, shaking his head 
106 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 


like an angry bull. “You two fools mind your own 
business. W e ’ll have a look at the house. ’ ’ 

In the trees Tom whispered to Romaine. “You stay 
here. I’ve got a plan. Steve and Roddy, come with 
me.” 

Tom led his two mates along the cover of pines, past 
the tennis-court, to the next entrance out from the 
woods. Then he walked into the open, his friends 
following. 

Meantime Dan had stepped beside Caesar, and with 
Simmons was confronting the angry trio, who ap- 
peared about to rush the steps. 

“Well, here we are, Mr. Simmons,” Tom announced. 
“I hope you haven’t been sitting up on oi;r account. 
We were out for an evening sail.” 

The big, bearded man and Disdoff and Veedol 
wheeled about and stared at the three young fellows. 

Caesar, giving a howl of welcome, bounded over to 
Rodney and rubbed himself strenuously against his 
friend’s legs. 

“No, sir, I wasn’t sitting up for you,” said Sim- 
mons. “I never retire early. I had just come out 
to enjoy a bit of evening air.” 

“And entertain some friends, I see,” said Tom, 
indicating the three men with a wave of his hand. 

107 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“ Perhaps it would be more correct to say that they 
were entertaining me,” Simmons responded in his pre- 
cise voice. 

“ Don’t let us disturb you,” said Tom. “ I guess 
we’ll be going to bed.” With Rodney and Stephen he 
approached the back door. “I say, who are your 
friends? Somehow they don’t look as if they belonged 
round here.” 

‘ ‘ Well,” said Simmons, “ I call them by nicknames. 
They’re the three bears. The one with the beard is 
the big bear; he growls and shows his teeth and 
makes considerable noise when he talks. Then there’s 
the middle-sized bear, the one with the fuzzy cap who 
sounds like a tin fife when he pipes up. And the 
little bear’s the fat one; he’s as full of sweetness as 
a plum pudding; you should hear him laugh when I 
tell him a joke.” 

The three men, still staring, began to mutter among 
themselves. 

“The bears are beginning to growl now,” cautioned 
Simmons. 

“Oh, we don’t mind their growling,” said Tom. 
“We can keep them in order.” He looked at the big 
fellow. ‘ ‘ Stay as long as you like; only don’t make 
too much noise out here; we’re going to bed.” 

108 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 


“We want to see the man called Romaine,” de- 
clared Disdoff stubbornly. 

“Romaine?” Tom glanced at Simmons. 4 4 What’s 
he talking about?” 

44 I’m sure I don’t know, sir,” said Simmons. 

4 4 That’s the way they’ve been going on for quite some 
time.” 

44 Yas, sah,” put in Dan, 4 4 they’ve been a-goin’ on 
that-a-way for ’most an hour.” 

4 4 Seems to me it’s time they were going on about 
their own business,” stated Tom. 4 4 Look here.” He 
turned to the men. 4 4 If you can’t tell us what you 
want I think it’s time you were leaving.” 

4 4 Right you are, Tom,” Stephen chimed in. 4 4 We 
don’t want to be bothered with theimany longer.” He 
nodded at Disdoff. 4 4 Run away now, like good fel- 
lows. It won’t hurt any of you to get some beauty 
sleep.” 

The men looked at the shipmates. To break into 
a house defended by three such young and athletic 
fellows, to say nothing of Simmons and Dan, would 
be no easy matter. Tom’s words and manner indi- 
cated that the three lived there, and there was no 
visible evidence that Pierre Romaine did. Veedol 
plucked the bearded man by the elbow and murmured 
109 


REFUGEE ROCK 


something to him in a foreign tongue. Then the 
three wheeled about and beat a retreat to the woods. 

“Good night, bears/ ’ chuckled Stephen, waving his 
hand after the three. 

“Now Caesar, you keep your ears open,” said Rod- 
ney, patting the dog’s head. “If you hear them com- 
ing up here again you let us know about it.” 

They all went into the cottage. Simmons bolted the 
door. “Where’s Mr. Romaine?” he asked anxiously. 
“He hasn’t come back yet.” 

“Here I am,” said a voice from the living room. 
“I came in the front way. Wait till I light a candle.” 

In the big room the light of the candle showed them 
the master of the house with his rapier in his hand. 
The scabbard lay on the table where he had thrown 
it. “You pretty thing!” he murmured to the shin- 
ing steel. “You pretty, merry darling! I don’t need 
you to-night, but I may very soon, my dear. ’ ’ 

“You saw those men, Mr. Pierre?” Simmons asked. 

“Indeed I did, Simmons. And you answered them 
to the queen’s taste. I was almost hoping they would 
decide to try to come in and have a look for me. I 
think perhaps we might have taught them the lesson 
they’re spoiling for. But they’ll try again, never 
fear.” 


110 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 


“Pm sure I hope they won’t, sir,” Simmons pro- 
tested. 

“Ah, but you don’t know them, Simmons. They’re 
obstinate, they have some of the admirable character- 
istics of your own English race; together with others 
not so admirable. They want some things of me, and 
they ’ve come a long way to get them. But they won ’t 
get them; no, they won’t. Not as long as I have such 
friends as you and my three young sailors and Dan 
and Caesar.” He smiled and looked down at the shin- 
ing blade in his hand. “And my Isabelle, my lady 
fair. It’s odd, but whenever I feel myself in a tight 
hole my fingers itch for her. And with her in my 
hand I verily believe I would fight the legions of 
Satan.” 

Carefully, lovingly, he wound his long fingers about 
the hilt of the sword. Then, with a light spring, he 
stood with his back to the door. He raised the rapier, 
held it at salute for an instant, and straightway was 
fencing with his imaginary foe. 

So quick was his wrist in its turns, so lightning-like 
the suppleness of his movements that it seemed to his 
audience as if he were really fighting an opponent. 
His shadow leapt about the floor and up the walls, gi- 
gantic, looming. His eyes were points of light, keen, 
111 


REFUGEE ROCK 


quick, decisive as his blade. The three mates watched 
him, hypnotized. Never had any of them seen such 
an exhibition of agility. 

Suddenly Romaine darted his hand forward, gave a 
twist, and described a great arc in the air with the 
point of his sword. “ There goes the other blade !” 
he cried. ‘ ‘ See ! I caught it fair, and sent it whirling ! 
Hear it clash on the floor! The gentleman is at my 
mercy ! ’ 9 

So vivid were the actions and the words that the 
watchers could almost catch the ring of the imaginary 
rapier as it fell on the boards. 

Romaine dropped the point of his sword and leaned 
back against the door, laughing. “He put up a gal- 
lant fight, my friends, but it takes more skill than that 
to equal my dancing lady. Ah, what a jewel she is!” 
He drew a silk handkerchief from his pocket and 
carefully wiped the rapier from hilt to point. 

“I wish I could do that!” said Stephen, his eyes 
wide with admiration of this wonderful man. 

“Ah, but it took Mr. Pierre years and years to be- 
come a master of fence,” observed Simmons. “I 
fancy he took his first lesson about the time he learned 
his arithmetic.” 

“You are right, Simmons; I did. Well I remem- 
112 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 


ber the day when I had my first lesson in the garden 
at home. My sword was about one half the length of 
this and made of wood. And ever since I have had 
a blade in my hand.” Slowly he drew the scabbard 
over the rapier. 6 ‘ This one was given to me by my 
godfather when I was eighteen. I think I would 
rather lose my right arm than have any harm come 
to it.” 

He placed the precious weapon on the mantel over 
the hearth. “And now,” he said, turning about, “I 
want you, Dan, to take Caesar and make a tour of the 
grounds to learn whether those three men are still in 
the neighborhood. I have an idea they have aban- 
doned their enterprise for the night, but if not, you 
might assure them that the fort is fully manned for 
their reception and the garrison more than ready to 
discuss their business.” 

Dan’s big eyes beamed. His master was a perpet- 
ual delight to him. “Yas, Mistah Pierre,” he an- 
swered. “Caesar an’ I will tell ’em we’re ready to 
give ’em a thrashin’.” 

“Well,” said Romaine, “it’s late, but not too late 
for a little food, Simmons. Sailing makes me hungry 
and we’ve done considerable sailing this evening. I 
don’t know what sort of supper they served my friend 
113 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Rodney on the smack, but I suspect he can eat a little 
something. ’ 9 

The four sat down at the table and Simmons brought 
them cold ham and bread and butter and cheese and 
opened some bottles of ginger ale. Meantime they 
discussed the situation. “I guess Veedol and his 
friends know where you are now,” said Rodney. 

“Yes,” agreed Romaine, “but they also know that 
I’m on guard against them. It isn’t a case of snoop- 
ing down and taking me unawares. Now I was won- 
dering — ” 

He sat silent some time, turning his glass round and 
round on the table, while the boys waited for him to 
go on. 

“I was wondering if we could use the crew of the 
fishing-smack to help us out of this little difficulty. 
You see, that crew is up to something around here. 
Now if we could only manage to have them and Veedol 
and his friends fall foul of each other — Get our en- 
emies fighting among each other — Simmons, you’re 
a man of considerable judgment, what’s your opinion 
of that?” 

“If you ask me, sir,” said the Englishman, “I ad- 
vise against having anything to do with any of the.m. 
They’re all bad eggs, in my opinion.” 

114 


A NIGHT’S ADVENTURE 


i i Quite so, Simmons. I agree with yon. They are 
all bad eggs in my opinion too. But I ’m afraid we ’ve 
got to have something to do with them nevertheless. 
Now if we could get the bad eggs hitting each other.” 
Romaine paused, stared at his glass, shook his head, 
and finally observed, “No, I must sleep on that. I 
think perhaps there may be something in it, but I can’t 
say now.” He looked up at his guests. “I know you 
won’t mind my keeping some things secret. Perhaps 
some day I will tell you what lies between me and these 
rascals from over the ocean. Only I beg you not to be 
surprised at anything I may do. Ah, here comes Dan. 
Is the coast clear?” 

The colored boy nodded. “Caesar couldn’t smell 
’em out anywheres, Mistah Pierre ; no, that he couldn’t. 
I think they must a-sailed away.” 

“Good enough, Dan. Then let’s be off to bed. Sim- 
mons, will you kindly see that all the doors and win- 
dows are properly barricaded.” 

There were two guest rooms with three beds, and 
into these the shipmates rolled as quickly as they 
could. The cottage on the top of the Rock was quiet 
all that night. 


115 


IX 


TREASURE CHESTS 

T HE shipmates were lounging on top of the cliff 
the next afternoon. Far below the waves were 
rolling in, and striking a long reef were dashing up in 
fountains of spray, shot through by the sunlight. The 
gulls were at their usual business of floating through 
the air, flapping their great wings as they went sky- 
ward, and then spreading them out like stretches of 
canvas and soaring on and on, without a seeming 
quiver from beak to tail. The young ones were pure 
white, soft and plump of body, with sharp red beaks 
that gave them a wicked look as they hovered over the 
water, ready to drop on a fish. The older ones were 
much bigger and darker, beaten by many winds and 
rains, flying more leisurely and making less noise. 
The shipmates, lying outstretched on the warm, short 
grass, watched the gulls and the leaping surf and kept 
watch on the chain of northern islands for the glint 
of a sail. 

“Seals!” said Stephen, and pointed to a low rock 
116 


TREASURE CHESTS 


some distance from the shore. “This is the time they 
begin to come down from the Canadian waters. 
There ’ll be more and more of them now until Octo- 
ber.’ ’ 

All three watched the round, shiny bodies of a couple 
of brownish harbor seals emerge from the waves and 
roll and push and nose their way on to a flat ledge. 
Queer looking creatures they were, as much like tightly- 
filled bags of meal as anything else. When they came 
out of the water they were drab-brown, but the longer 
they lay in the sun, slowly flapping their wide tails like 
rudders, the lighter in color they grew, until they were 
almost white. Then some noise frightened the basking 
pair, and with extraordinary quickness for such un- 
wieldy creatures they had slipped from their perch 
and were back in the sea again, only showing their 
snouts from time to time as they swam about the rock. 

The shipmates had all seen such seals before in the 
northern waters of Maine. “I don’t suppose you ever 
saw the real fur-bearing seals up in Canada, did you, 
Steve?” asked Tom. 

The boy from Montreal laughed. “Never except in 
the Zoo, or stuffed in fur-shop windows. Next thing 
you’ll be asking me if I ever played tag with polar 
bears on the ice. Canada’s a big country. I’ve been 
117 


REFUGEE ROCK 


up to Lake St. John with my father, fishing for land- 
locked salmon, but I Ve never been to Labrador or any 
of the real cold places. ’ 9 

“Men like Craddock don’t care much for those fel- 
lows out there,” put in Rodney, nodding toward the 
ledge of rock where the brow seals had recently 
perched. “ They eat the fish and the lobsters. I don’t 
know that I blame the seals much for that. I like 
lobsters myself. ’ ’ 

“There’s nothing better,” said Tom. “Broiled live 
lobster — oh, yum — yum!” 

“Speaking of Craddock,” said Stephen, “what is 
that fellow’s game? He’s nosing around for some- 
thing. He was hunting all over the Rock yesterday 
afternoon when those men caught Roddy.” 

“Dynamite,” answered Tom. “He wants to get his 
hands on some of that dynamite. ’ ’ 

“Rats!” exclaimed Stephen. “You know as well as 
I do that that sign’s a fake.” 

Tom was silent, and the black-haired fellow turned 
to look at Rodney. “What’s your guess, Mr. Sherlock 
Holmes? You haven’t been giving us any of your de- 
ductions lately.” 

Rodney lay back on the grass, his hands clasped 
under his head. “I think that Craddock scents some 
118 


TREASURE CHESTS 


money somewhere, more money than he can make out 
of fish and lobsters.” 

44 Money? You don’t suppose those men from the 
smack are hiding gold pieces in that cave in the rock?” 
Stephen sat up, very much interested. 

“Not money exactly; but something that’s worth 
money.” 

“Oh, come, you old sleuth. This isn’t the day of 
Captain Kidd.” 

4 4 1 think Roddy ’s right, ’ ’ declared Tom. 4 4 All signs 
point to their hiding something valuable, something 
they don ’t want anyone else to find. ’ ’ 

4 4 Well, they’re not pirates,” said Stephen. 

Rodney sat up, clasped his hands about his knees 
and rocked back and forth in his favorite fashion. 
4 4 No, they’re not pirates exactly. They’re smug- 
glers.” 

4 4 Smugglers ! ” exclaimed Stephen. 

Rodney nodded wisely. 4 4 They’ve come down from 
your part of the world, Steve, and they’re waiting 
their chance to get something across here without 
Uncle Sam knowing anything about it.” 

44 Well, for goodness’ sake, Roddy ! Why don’t they 
do it ? What ’s to hinder their dumping their stuff any- 
where along shore ? ’ ’ 


119 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Rodney looked at kis excited friend and slowly shook 
his head. “It isn’t as simple as that, dear boy. You 
have to have assistance from the other end. What 
good would their stuff do set down on the rocks or in 
the woods somewhere ?” 

“And where is their assistance coming from, 0 wise 
one?” 

“I have an idea the other end of the business is to 
be found in the town of Swannock’s Neck. But the 
game isn’t quite ripe yet.” 

Stephen stared at Rodney. “Well, that certainly 
does beat all!” he said. “So we’ve run into a bunch 
of smugglers as well as into Romaine’s pretty Russian 
bears !” 

“What did Mr. Romaine mean when he spoke last 
night of setting one band of men against the other?” 
inquired Tom. 

“Set a thief to catch a thief,” Rodney answered. 
‘ ‘ That would be fine if we only knew how to work it. ’ ’ 

Stephen was looking down over the cliff, and sud- 
denly he bent forward. “Who’s that?” he exclaimed, 
“and what is he carrying?” 

Instantly the other two were craning their necks over 
the edge. 

Far below, along a path that led to the base of the 
120 


TREASURE CHESTS 


cliff, a man was moving. In each arm he held a pack- 
age, and each was of considerable weight to judge from 
the way in which the bearer stooped. 

“Why,” muttered Tom, “it’s Simmons!” 

“Surely is,” agreed Stephen. “Pd know the way 
he plants his feet anywhere. He walks as carefully as 
if he were carrying a tray full of tea things.” 

“Do you suppose he’s going out in the rowboat?” 
Tom asked. 

In a moment or two it was clear that Simmons was 
riot going out in the rowboat. Instead he went along 
the base of the cliff to a place where a gnarled pine 
jutted out from the bank. Here he set down his two 
packages carefully. Then he drew a handkerchief 
from his pocket and wiped his face. Afterwards he 
fanned himself with his straw hat while he looked 
across the water. 

“Those things are boxes,” said Rodney, “and fairly 
heavy too.” 

“Now don’t you go telling me that Simmons is a 
smuggler,” retorted Stephen. “If you do, I won’t be- 
lieve you anyhow.” 

“Well, what in thunder is he doing?” demanded 
Tom, leaning as far forward as he dared. 

Simmons was bending over now, apparently taking 
121 


REFUGEE ROCK 


something from the side of the cliff at the roots of the 
gnarled tree. Then he lifted one box. It disappeared. 
He lifted the second. That also vanished. He stood 
up, looking carefully all around him. Then he took a 
pipe from his pocket, filled it, lit it, and strolled along 
the beach. 

Tom sat back on his haunches, whistling softly. 
44 Treasure chests !” he murmured. 4 4 Tucking them 
away where nobody’ll be the wiser.” 

4 4 Say, ’ ’ said Stephen, 4 4 if this goes on I ’ll think that 
everybody’s, got a secret except myself. Look here; 
you two fellows aren’t hiding anything on this island, 
are you?” 

4 4 1 didn ’t suspect Simmons, ’ ’ said Rodney, pulling a 
blade of grass and chewing it meditatively. 4 4 1 ’m sure 
he’s perfectly loyal to Mr. Romaine.” 

4 4 Well, you’d better start right now suspecting 
everybody,” said Stephen. 4 4 It’s the only safe plan. 
How do we know that Pierre Romaine himself isn’t 
some sort of villain?” 

4 4 If he is,” answered Rodney, 44 I’m going to stick by 
him anyway. He ’s a whole lot more to my taste than 
those three men who came in the schooner. ’ ’ 

4 4 Steve’s only joking,” said Tom. 4 4 He likes Ro- 
maine as much as you and I do. What do you say to 
122 


TREASURE CHESTS 


going down and having a little chat with Simmons ?” 

The three went down the path and came out on the 
shore opposite the place where Romaine ’s rowboat was 
fastened to its plank pier. Simmons was still strolling 
on the beach. Seeing them, he drew near. “A peace- 
ful scene/ ’ he observed. “It puts me in mind of some 
of the better class of our English watering-places. ’ ’ 

“Does it indeed ?” said Stephen, who couldn’t resist 
a little mimicking of the man’s formal tones. “But 
you haven’t forgotten that all sorts of wild things 
happen in America, especially on the sea-coast, that 
couldn’t possibly happen in well-behaved England.” 

“Indeed I haven’t, Mr. Stephen. I wish I could.” 

Stephen glanced around him with an air of mystery. 
Then, lowering his voice, he said, “Simmons, have you 
ever heard of Captain Kidd?” 

The man wrinkled his brow. “Captain Kidd?” he 
repeated thoughtfully. “Was he an officer in the 
American army?” 

“Not exactly. Think again. He was a sea captain. 
As a matter of fact, I believe he was an Englishman.” 

“Ha,” said Simmons. “Pm afraid I’m not as well 
up in the history of the navy as I should be.” 

‘ 'Well, ’ ’ said Stephen, “ I ’ll tell you. Captain Kidd 
was a very famous pirate.” 

123 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Ah,” Simmons exclaimed, “now I do remember. 
Yes, Mr. Stephen, I believe he was a well-known pi- 
rate.” 

“Sure he was! And he grew rich at the business. 
He used to take pieces of gold and silver from the 
ships he captured, and hide them in chests on the 
islands along the Atlantic coast. People still hunt for 
his treasure. We were wondering if those men from 
the fishing smack were looking for something like that 
around here.” 

“Dear me, dear me!” ejaculated Simmons. “Do 
you really fancy they might be?” 

“You haven’t seen any signs of boxes hidden in the 
rocks or cliffs, have you ? ’ ’ 

Simmons ’ face reddened, he appeared somewhat con- 
fused. “The idea is entirely new to me,” he said hesi- 
tatingly. “You gentlemen know of the little ravine 
with the dynamite sign. Beyond that—” He 
shrugged his shoulders, then glanced at the ocean. 
‘ ‘ So that ’s what those men are after, in your opinion ? 
It’s a relief to my mind. I had some fear they were 
here on account of my master. ’ 7 

Stephen shook his head at Tom and Rodney; in his 
opinion Simmons had no intention of confessing what 
he had done with the two boxes they had seen him bring 
124 


TREASURE CHESTS 


down the path. Then, as the serving-man turned to- 
ward the three again, Stephen abruptly changed 
the subject. “Time to be going up to the house, 
isn’t it? It won’t do to leave Mr. Romaine alone too 
long. ’ ’ 

4 4 That’s right, Mr. Stephen; it won’t.” Simmons, 
who had been sauntering on the beach as if he had 
nothing to do but enjoy the late afternoon, now showed 
signs of hurry. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go back at 
once. He ’s been busy with his papers most of the day, 
but I don’t like to leave him alone; not after what 
happened last night.” 

Simmons made a hasty departure, followed more 
slowly by the others. As they went up to the path 
each of the three glanced at the bank where the roots 
of the twisted pine protruded. Nothing unusual was 
to be seen there, only what looked like the smooth sur- 
face of gray-green moss. 

Romaine was sitting on his porch, smoking a cala- 
bash pipe, and his three guests chatted with him until 
it was time for dinner. 

The dinner was excellent, and the feeling of adven- 
ture that had taken possession of all of them made for 
lively talk. Romaine had a great deal to say about 
Europe, and answered all questions with so much hu- 
125 


REFUGEE ROCK 


mor that his listeners were kept in constant laughter. 
When they had finished they sat outdoors again, but 
presently Romaine rose, saying, “I still have a little 
more writing to do. If anything should happen to 
me — ” he smiled and shrugged his shoulders — “I 
want to make some things clear about my adventures. 
Pm making a personal record. Not that I think any- 
thing will go wrong, you understand. But a good 
sailor keeps a log of his voyages. ’ 9 

“Of course,” agreed Tom. “Don’t you bother 
about us.” 

The summer night was soft and still. For a time the 
shipmates lounged at ease on the porch. But after a 
while each of the three grew restless. What were the 
men of the fishing-smack doing? What were the Rus- 
sians doing? What were Craddock and Simmons do- 
ing? It was not in human nature to sit still when many 
mysteries might be unfolding near at hand. With one 
accord the shipmates got up and wandered away from 
the cottage. 

Without any definite plan in mind they took their 
way down to the beach. It was dark now, and as they 
perched on the rocks near their first camping-ground 
they seemed to have the shore and the sea to them- 
selves. A half-hour passed in chat. Then, on a head- 
126 


TREASURE CHESTS 


land to the north of them a torch shone forth, a flam- 
ing light waved in the air in great circles. 

The mates watched the beacon. After several min- 
utes it went out, as though someone had thrown the 
torch into the water. 

“ There’s something doing, lads!” muttered Tom. 
“That can’t be very far from the smugglers’ cave.” 

Over the rocks and the sand they hurried. They saw 
a boat put out from the beach ahead of them, not a 
dory this time, but a motor boat. They could catch 
the beating put-put of the engine. 

There was no one left on the shore, so far as they 
could see. “Come; let’s beat it!” whispered Stephen. 

They ran after the boat, gaining on it, got almost 
opposite it as they reached the northern point of the 
island. 

“It’s not going out to the smack,” panted Rodney. 
“It’s going to the mainland.” 

“What do you say to following it?” asked Tom. 

4 ‘ All right. W e ’re on, ’ ’ urged Stephen. 

The Penguin lay at Romaine’s dock only a short 
distance away. In five minutes her crew had tumbled 
aboard her. Tom started the engine, while Stephen 
crouched in the bow, keeping his eyes on the course of 
the other boat. 


127 


REFUGEE ROCK 


The Penguin was fast enough to stay in sight of her 
quarry. Through the lanes between the islands she 
made her pursuit. Soon the scattering lights of the 
village shone above the edge of the Water. “It’s 
Swannock’s Neck she’s bound for,” said Rodney. 
“Not too fast, Tom. We don’t want to overhaul 
her.” 

Tom slowed his engine. The other boat was going 
more slowly now. She was nearing the shore, and 
apparently heading for a wharf at the upper end of 
the town. 

The put-put in front of them stopped, the other boat 
was rounding in on her own headway. The Penguin 
stopped too. Silently, a hundred yards from shore, 
the crew of three watched what was happening before 
them. 

A man on the wharf caught the bow of the other 
boat, and then took the end of some big object that was 
pushed up toward him. A man got out of the boat, and 
made his craft fast to the wharf. Then the two picked 
up the object, and carrying it between them hurried 
up on the waterfront in the direction of the village. 

The Penguin gently and smoothly slid up to the dock, 
was fastened, and discharged her eager crew. The 
three climbed to the road. A light, shining from a cot- 
128 


TREASURE CHESTS 

tage window, showed them the figures they sought dis- 
appearing around a picket fence. 

“Lightfoot work, this,” said Stephen. ‘ 4 Three’s a 
crowd in this sleepy village. I’ll go to the left of that 
house, and you two take to the right. We mustn’t let 
those fellows get away till we know what they’re 
up to.” 

“ Three whistles — two short and one long,” said 
Tom. “That’s our signal. Cut along there, Steve.” 

Stephen darted one way, and Tom and Rodney the 
other. The two men had disappeared now, but the 
pursuers knew the direction they had taken. 


129 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


S ILAS WIDDICOME, General Store— that was the 
sign over the door of the two-story frame build- 
ing in front of which Tom and Rodney presently drew 
up. It was not nearly so pretentious as the store that 
the postmaster, Elijah Bascom, managed fifty yards 
or so away on the same street. It had a porch in front 
and its weather-stained clapboards were liberally be- 
sprinkled with a variety of advertisements that looked 
almost as ancient as the wood itself. In the two lower 
windows was a collection of merchandise only dimly 
visible in the light of the stars. 

“Fm certain they went in here,” Rodney whispered. 
Tom nodded. There was no other building close at 
hand ; the nearest was a tiny cottage on the other side 
of a potato patch. 

“I wonder what’s become of Steve?” Tom whis- 
pered. “Do you suppose he went down that other 
street?” 

The two stood still and listened. There was not a 
sound to be heard. Swannock’s Neck went to bed 
130 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


early; only a light here and there behind some cur- 
tained window spoke of people still moving about. 

And the store of Silas Widdicome was absolutely 
dark, and equally absolutely silent. Yet Tom was as 
certain as Rodney that he had seen the figures of two 
men carrying something up those front steps only a 
few minutes before. 

Tom nudged his companion and beckoned with his 
head. They jumped the fence into the potato patch 
and made their way around the side of the store. All 
the windows were dark ; if Mr. Widdicome lived in the 
house he must be now in bed or else hadn’t yet come 
home. 

The tw’o sat on the tongue of a cart in the backyard 
and considered the situation. In the midst of their 
whisperings Rodney glanced up at the building again. 
To his surprise a light now showed at one of the 
second story windows. 

A small shed projected at the rear of the store. The 
lighted window was not above this, but around the 
corner. There was, however, no perch that would give 
a view into this window, and curtains were drawn 
across it so that nothing could be seen from the out- 
side. Above the roof of the shed there was a window, 
dark to be sure, but partly open, and this must belong 
131 


REFUGEE ROCK 


to a small apartment close to the lighted room. ‘ ‘ Shall 
we try it?” muttered Tom, pointing to the shed. 

Rodney agreed with a nod. “I’m game,” he mur- 
mured. 

It was easy to reach the roof by means of an ice chest 
that stood just beneath it. The two climbed up, care- 
ful not to fall through the old and rotten boarding. 
But when they got to the window they seemed as far 
from learning anything as they had been before. 
There was no light inside and they heard no voices. 

For some minutes they hesitated. It seemed peril- 
ously like burglary to make their way into a strange 
house by a second story window. Tom put his head 
in at the opening, and then drew Rodney to his side. 
They were looking into a tiny storeroom, with a curtain 
at the other end. Where the curtain hung loosely 
against the framework they could see light, evidently 
the Same illumination they had caught in the yard. 

Adventure had gripped them both too strongly now 
for ordinary caution. Tom slipped through the win- 
dow, closely followed by Rodney. On the wooden floor 
their sneakers made no sound. 

Stealthily they reached the curtain, Tom to one side 
and Rodney to the other. Beyond them was a bed- 
room, sparsely furnished. On a table an oil lamp was 
132 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


burning. Two men were at work, prying up the lid of 
a large box. 

One of the men was elderly, tall and gaunt, with a 
long gray beard. The other was much younger, stout- 
ish and red-faced. Rodney had never seen either of 
them; they did not belong to the crew of the fishing- 
smack. 

The younger man hit his thumb with a hammer and 
uttered an exclamation. 

“Not so loud, Abe!” said the other. “You’re the 
clumsiest critter I ever did see. Don ’t you know better 
than to go squawking away like that?” 

Abe sat down on the floor. “Who’s going to hear 
us up here, Silas? Nobody comes to your store this 
time o ’ night. And you said your old lady was sound 
asleep in the front room.” 

“That’s all right,” answered the storekeeper, rest- 
ing from his labors for a moment and standing with 
hands on his hips. “When you go into business like 
this you’ve got to be keerful of everything. Didn’t 
you tell me you thought you heard a motor boat some- 
wheres back of you out in the bay?” 

“Well, what if I did? Most likely it was only those 
young fellers who ’re camping out on the island. You 
aren’t afraid o’ them, are you?” 

133 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“I tell you I don’t trust nobody, Abe.” 

44 That’s because you’re a storekeeper, Silas. You 
just naturally think everybody’s tryin’ to steal from 
you.” 

Apparently Silas Widdicome did not like to be 
talked to in this fashion. He opened and shut his 
mouth several times, producing no sound, but making 
his long gray beard flap up and down on his breast. 
The man on the floor looked up at him mockingly. 
4 4 Well, well, spit it out, Silas. Why don’t you tell me 
that I’m no better than I ought to be either? I’m 
tryin’ to sell goods the same as you are. The only 
difference is that I’m a greenhorn at it, and it’s your 
reg’lar business.” 

4 4 This ain’t my regular business, Abe. You know 
that as well as I do. It’s only what you might call a 
kind of a flyer.” 

4 4 Oh, is that so? And what would the neighbors 
think if they found out that Silas Widdicome was play- 
ing this sort o’ game? Would you be telling them it 
was only a flyer?” 

44 Shi-sh, you limb of Satan! Can’t you understand 
that there’s nothing really wrong about this? We’re 
only trying to sell goods that we came by fair enough.” 

4 4 That what you going to tell the officers if they come 
134 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


butting in?” The man on the floor chuckled noisily. 
“They’ll tell you not to pull off any fairy tales like 
that on them. Believe me, Silas, you may be able to 
fool the folks of Swannock’s Neck, but you can’t get 
away with that line of talk to Uncle Sam’s men.” 

Widdicome was pulling his beard nervously. 
“Those men from over the border sold this stuff to 
us. I’ve got their bills to show it. I’d like to know 
whose business it is how much I paid for it, or how I 
happened to get it.” 

“Well, if you’d like to know, I’ll tell you, Silas. It’s 
Uncle Sam’s business. He’s got customs officers and 
he pays ’em just to keep track of little affairs like 
this.” 

The storekeeper exploded. “Customs officers!” he 
exclaimed, entirely forgetful of his earlier warning to 
his companion not to speak so loud. “Don’t you talk 
about them to me, Abe Pringle! I won’t have you; 
no, that I won’t! Lands sakes! I don’t know why I 
ever put you in the way of making a little easy 
money ! ’ ’ 

Abe grinned. “You were pretty kind to me, weren’t 
you? Sometimes I almost wish you hadn’t been so 
thoughtful. Suppose — ” 

“Now you hold on. I won’t have you supposing. 

135 


REFUGEE ROCK 


If you’re scared, say so and get out. I ain’t afraid of 
your talking. ’ ’ 

The other sobered down. “Oh, I’m not scared. 
I’ve got as much nerve as you have. Only you make 
me kinder cross sometimes.” He got up from the 
floor. 

“Very well, very well,” said Widdicome soothingly. 
“Now suppose you and I get that box open without any 
more talk. ’ ’ 

With cold chisels and hammers the two proceeded to 
pry the boards loose. They had almost finished the 
job when Widdicome stood up abruptly. “What’s 
that?” he hissed. “There’s somebody in the hall!” 

“Lock the door, Silas!” 

“There ain’t any key.” 

“Put your shoulder against it!” 

Widdicome jumped across the room and thrust his 
shoulder against the door to the hall. Immediately 
there came a bang on the wood from the other side. 

Pringle hesitated. Already the door was beginning 
to give inward. The hinges creaked, the old wood 
buckled. 

Hammer still in his hand, Pringle jumped for the 
curtain on the farther side of the room. His head 
bumped into Tom. He muttered something and waved 
136 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


the hammer viciously. Next second he fell to the floor, 
with Rodney on his back. 

6 i Keep still ! ’ ’ threatened Rodney, and wrenched the 
hammer away. 

Tom pulled the curtain in place. “You keep quiet ! ’ ’ 
he muttered, turning to Pringle. “If you make for 
that window we’ll get you by the legs.” 

The man, thoroughly cowed now, rose mumbling, 
and looked into the lighted room. 

The door to the hall was giving. One more push 
and Widdicome was thrust back. He collided with a 
chair, and fell into it, sprawling. 

Two men came into the room, Veedol and Disdoff. 
They looked at the sprawling storekeeper and grinned 
at his helplessness. 

“You would keep us out, hein?” said the truculent 
Disdoff, shaking his fist at Widdicome. 

Now the two strangers, in their foreign, seafaring 
clothes, bore no resemblance to customs officers. Dis- 
doff’s accent, moreover, was distinctly not that of an 
American. Widdicome plucked up courage as he rose 
to his feet. “What do you mean by breaking into my 
house in this way! ” he demanded. “I’ll have the law 
of you; that I will!” 

“Have the law!” repeated Veedol, a satiric smile 
137 


REFUGEE ROCK 


on his fat face. “Have all the law you want. We 
saw you down on the dock. You didn’t think anyone 
was watching you; but there was. Aha, there’s the 
box ! ’ ’ 

The box was in plain sight ; its top-boards ready to 
lift. Yeedol stepped over to it. 

“Hold on,” commanded Widdicome. “What have 
you got to do with the things I bring into my store?” 

“I will tell you,” said Veedol with excessive polite- 
ness. “We mean to take those things out with us 
again.” 

The storekeeper glared; and Veedol nudged Disdoff 
and said something to him in a foreign tongue that was 
evidently mockery of the graybeard. 

‘ c Who are you ? ’ ’ demanded Widdicome. i ‘ Drunken 
sailors from that schooner in the harbor?” 

“No, no,” insisted the polite Veedol, his round face 
all smiles. “We are entirely sober, sir. At any other 
time than this it would give me pleasure to relate to 
you our history. ’ ’ 

“But not now,” broke in Disdoff, and laid his hands 
on the cover of the box. 

Widdicome sprang forward, still full of fight; but 
Veedol gave him an unexpected shove in the stomach 
that almost doubled him up. 

138 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


Disdoff gave the loose boards a wrench, and plunged 
his hands into the box. He pulled out a couple of fur 
robes, beautiful black glossy things, very large and 
thick. 

Veedol stared at the furs; then gave an impatient 
exclamation. 

Disdotf threw the things on the floor and again 
plunged his hands into the box. Again he brought out 
furs, brown ones, gray ones. 

“Hein!” snarled Veedol, and dropped on his knees 
beside the box. Now he delved in himself; but 
his hands produced only a couple more robes like the 
first. 

The two men stuck their heads in the box, while Wid- 
dicome stood above them, looking as if he would like 
to seize each one by the neck. Then the heads were 
raised, and simultaneously the two men began to jabber 
at each other angrily. 

“Now, you see, you rascals,” said Widdicome. 
“It’s just as I told you. I was bringing those things 
to my store to sell them.” He stooped and started to 
pick up the furs, which were scattered all over the 
floor. 

Veedol jumped to his feet, shaking his fist. “Furs, 
furs! Where are the other things?” 

139 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“ There aren’t any other things,” Widdicome an- 
swered. “What did you expect to find?” 

“Oh, you — you — ” howled the little fat man, his face 
blazing with rage. Skipping across to the storekeeper 
he tore the furs from the latter’s hands and flung them 
wildly around the room. 

Disdoff gave the box a great kick, and joined his com- 
panion. Like Veedol he evidently meant to take out 
his disappointment on the graybeard. Calling him all 
sorts of foreign names he jabbed his fists at the store- 
keeper, dancing around him like an enraged fighting 
cock. 

Widdicome put up his arms to ward off the blows, 
but was spun round and round by his two assailants. 

“Hold on there!” cried Tom. “Roddy, bring that 
fellow along with you ! ” 

Into the room sprang Tom. Rodney, pushing Abe 
Pringle before him, followed instantly. 

Tom made a football tackle of Disdoff ’s knees. Dis- 
doff clutched at Widdicome as he fell. The store- 
keeper bumped his head on the floor, the other two on 
top of him. 

Meanwhile Pringle, suddenly grown valiant, had 
thrown his arms about Yeedol and was struggling with 
him. The stout man, taken by surprise, and from the 
140 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


back, was shoved across the floor and pinned against 
the wall. 

Rodney pulled Tom to his feet, and the two surveyed 
the scene. Widdicome was groaning, and Disdoff lay, 
completely out of breath, across the storekeeper’s legs. 
Pringle was pummeling Veedol, who was bleating like 
a sheep. 

At this moment a woman’s voice was heard in the 
hall. “Oh, Silas, Silas! What is the matter?” 

“I suppose that’s Mrs. Widdicome,” said Rodney. 
He stepped to the open door. “Don’t be frightened,” 
he said. “We’ll have them cleared out of here in a 
couple of minutes.” 

Tom jerked Disdoff off the storekeeper’s legs and 
helped the old man to get up. Bumped though he had 
been, Widdicome was bursting with indignation. He 
strode over to Disdoff; but Tom warded him off. 
‘ ‘ Let him alone. Let him alone, ’ ’ he ordered. “ We ’ll 
send the pair of them packing. ’ ’ 

“And who are you?” queried Widdicome. “How 
did you get in here?” 

“Never mind now. Roddy, stop that fellow jabbing 
the fat man in the back. You’ve still got the ham- 
mer. ’ ’ 

The hammer was not needed. Pringle stepped away 
141 


REFUGEE ROCK 


from Veedol, who instantly turned round. “So you 
fellows got in here too, did you?” he said. “You 
wanted that box. Well, you’re welcome to it. We’ll 
get your Mr. Romaine yet. And we ’ve got one of you 
safe already.” 

“What’s that?” said Rodney. 

“Look over there. Look at the furs,” said Yeedol. 

Rodney instinctively looked. At the same instant 
Veedol sprang past him to the door. 

“Hi there!” yelled Pringle, and dashed after his 
captive. 

From a room off the hall sounded the high-pitched 
voice of Mrs. Widdicome. “Silas, come here this min- 
ute! I’m scared ’most to death!” 

“All right, Maria; I’m coming.” The storekeeper, 
suddenly reminded of his wife, hurried out of the room 
to reassure her. 

“I guess we’d better keep hold of you,” Tom said 
to Disdoff. 

That limber man was too agile for him, however. 
He jumped across in the wake of Widdicome. Rodney 
threw out his arms and caught him. Disdoff gave a 
wriggle, a shove of his knee, and was free. Into the 
hall he sped just as Widdicome turned from his wife’s 
door. 


142 


WIDDICOME’S STORE 


The storekeeper tried to stop him. Disdoff leaped 
to one side and reached the head of the stairs. Down 
he ran, shaking the bannisters in his descent. 

After him came Widdicome, shouting to Pringle to 
bolt the front door. After Widdicome came Mrs. Wid- 
dicome, clad in a dressing-gown, a lighted candle in her 
hand. And after the screaming woman came Rodney 
and Tom. 

Disdoff slammed the front door. Widdicome seized 
the handle and pulled it open. Mrs. Widdicome 
dropped her candle and threw her arms around her 
husband. 4 4 You shan’t go out! You shan’t go out!” 
she cried. 

Rodney and Tom brushed past the pair and came 
out on the porch. Some distance away they saw the 
fleeing Disdoff. Veedol and Pringle had disappeared. 


143 


XI 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 

H AD there been anyone on the village street, and 
in the neighborhood of the store of Silas Wid- 
dicome, dealer in general merchandise, at eleven o ’clock 
that evening, he would have been vastly surprised at 
what he saw coming out from that supposedly respec- 
table building. First a short fat man, in a blue flannel 
suit and white canvas cap, came bursting out at the 
front door and bounded over the porch and down the 
steps like a frightened jack-rabbit. Almost immedi- 
ately back of him appeared a stoutish fellow, wearing 
the everyday clothes of a farmer of Swannock’s Neck. 
He too leaped from the porch and ran after the first 
man, in the direction of the waterfront. Then, after 
a minute, came a spry little fellow, dressed like a 
sailor, who, with doubled up fists, sped down the road 
as if a pack of wolves were in pursuit of him. After 
him a tall, gray-bearded man looked out at the door, 
and was immediately seized in the arms of a woman in 
a purple dressing-gown. Then two young fellows 
pushed past to the porch and ran out into the road. 
144 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 


4 4 Come on, Roddy ! ’ ’ called the taller one, and like the 
three preceding these two footed it at full speed 
toward the harbor. A most remarkable performance, 
calculated to make any sensible citizen of Swannock’s 
Neck rub his eyes in amazement and wonder if he were 
dreaming. But as it happened there was no one about, 
and the excited performers had the stage entirely to 
themselves. 

The last two runners saw Disdoff turn to the south, 
as soon as he reached the roadway that led along the 
wharves. Slackening their pace a little, they com- 
pared notes. 4 4 He’s making for the schooner,” said 
Tom. 

44 I guess he is,” said Rodney. 4 4 If only that old 
woman hadn’t got in my way!” 

4 4 What’s become of Steve? Do you suppose they’ve 
got him?” 

4 4 Looks that way. I guess the big man nabbed 
him.” 

4 4 That fellow ahead’s some runner! Hi there, 
Roddy! Look, he’s ducking round that pile of 
boards!” 

4 'Better be careful, Tom. It’s dark in that alley. 
He might hide somewhere and jump out after us.” 

This advice seemed sound, for back of the water- 
145 


REFUGEE ROCK 


front was a perfect labyrinth of little alleys. The two 
slowed up. “We can go along here in the road as far 
as the schooner,” said Tom. “He’s making for the 
boat, and if we get there first we can head him off. ’ ’ 

“What’s your idea?” asked Rodney. “To find out 
what’s happened to Steve?” 

“If we can get hold of that fellow we’ll make him 
tell what they’ve done with Steve.” 

“Right you are. I’ll bet he’s on board that boat.” 

“I mean to find out,” said Tom. 

At a dog-trot they followed the roadway, past the 
chandlers’ shops, the warehouses, the sail-lofts. They 
were just coming abreast of the old junk shop from 
which Rodney and Pierre Romaine had seen the three 
foreigners when a man stepped out from the shadow 
and stood across their path. “Stop!” ordered the 
man, holding a stout stick in front of him. 

The man was the big, bearded foreigner. 

Tom and Rodney stopped. 

“We don’t want people round our ship at night,” 
said the man. 

“All right,” said Tom. “We weren’t going aboard 
her.” 

“Get away then,” said the man, motioning with his 
stick. 


146 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 


“That’s another matter,” declared Tom. “We 
want to know what’s become of our friend.” 

The big man shook his head, as if not comprehend- 
ing. 

“That’s a very convenient way you have, not under- 
standing what you don’t want to.” Tom took a step 
forward. “Come on, Roddy. We’ve a perfect right 
here.” 

Instantly, however, the sentinel made it clear that, 
right or not, he did not intend that they should go past 
him. He swung his stick up into the air, ready to 
bring it down on the first one that came any nearer. 

It was useless to rush at him ; it was plainly equally 
useless to try to argue with him. Tom chose discre- 
tion as the better part of valor. “Oh, very well then. 
Have it your own way. I guess we can manage to find 
out what we want.” 

The shipmates turned on their heels, and retracing 
their steps a short distance came to a halt again. 
Looking back, they saw that the big man had retired 
into the shadow at the corner of the junk shop. 

“It almost seems as if he was guarding that place,” 
said Rodney. “Let’s try this alley. We can get 
around him that way and reach the schooner.” 

By piles of lumber, by casks, by old anchors and 
147 


REFUGEE ROCK 


chains they made their way through the narrow pass- 
age back of the row of shanties. Again they came to 
the old junk shop, this time from the land side. The 
place was dark and silent ; there was no one to be seen 
in the alley either ahead or behind them. 

“I wonder — ” began Rodney; and to Tom’s surprise 
his companion gave three soft whistles, two short and 
one long one. 

After a minute, to Tom’s still greater surprise, the 
three whistles were echoed — two short and one long — 
from the inside of the old shop. 

Tom looked at Rodney, and the latter nodded. Then 
Rodney crept up to the door by which Romaine and lie 
had entered that other day. Then the door had stood 
open; now it was shut, and a slight push against it 
showed that it was bolted as well. 

The old shop, however, had nothing of the look of an 
impregnable fortress. Shingles were missing from its 
slanting roof in places and there were gaps in the 
planks big enough to thrust one’s fist through. These 
were not big enough to crawl through, however. But a 
little search discovered a window across which an old 
sail had been tacked, and Tom’s knife quickly had this 
piece of canvas ripped away. It was an easy matter 
to climb through this opening. The two found them- 
148 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 


selves in the dark and tar-smelling interior of the shop, 
and went climbing over piles of old iron like a couple 
of spiders. 

Then a voice, Stephen’s voice, whispered, “Here I 
am, mates. Sitting on a keg of nails . 9 9 

The two followed his voice, and found him in a cor- 
ner. His hands were bound together by a piece of 
rope. In a minute Tom had this unknotted. 

Rodney meantime was peering through the front 
window. His companions came up to him and looked 
over his shoulder. Outside was the waterfront, with 
the bow of the schooner almost opposite them. Some- 
one was walking back and forth in the road, the big 
man, his stick tucked under his arm. 

A few minutes later two other figures hove in view, 
apparently coming from the schooner. These were 
Veedol and Disdoff ; and the big man greeted them with 
an inquisitive “ Humph V 9 that was clearly audible 
inside the shop. 

Veedol shrugged his shoulders. In the light of the 
stars he appeared none the worse for his wild race 
through the streets of Swannock’s Neck. “Ivan,” he 
said, and began to talk rapidly, making many gestures. 

It seemed as if he must be describing what had hap- 
pened at Widdicome’s store. 

149 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Ivan, the big man, was apparently angry. He shook 
his head a great deal and kept interrupting Veedol’s 
recital. But thrilling though it was to be so near and 
watch these strange men, the listeners soon realized 
they would learn nothing from the foreign tongue. 
Tom drew his two friends away. 

The bolt of the door at the rear of the shop was easily 
pulled back, and the three stood again in the fresh air 
of the alley. Toward the main street of the village 
they bent their steps, winding in and out through the 
little passages that were like rabbits’ warrens. And 
just before they reached the open road they met a man 
coming from one of the turnings. He almost ran into 
them in the dark, and then he jumped back as if he 
expected to be set upon. 

1 1 Hello ! ’ ’ said Tom. ‘ 1 Why, it ’s Mr. Pringle ! ’ ’ 

The man gave a sheepish grin. ‘ 4 That fellow got 
away from me down here. You haven’t seen him, have 
you?” 

“Yes, we’ve seen him,” Tom answered. “But I 
wouldn’t advise you to hunt for him any more to-night. 
He’s got some friends with him.” 

“I’ll go along with you,” Pringle volunteered. 

When they came out into the open road he turned 
and faced them. “I don’t know how the two of you 
150 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 


came to be in Silas Widdicome’s house,” he said. 
“But you saw those ruffians break in and handle old 
Silas regardless. You can bear witness to that. Silas 
isn’t the kind to put up with that sort of thing. He’ll 
have the law of them. Yes, and so will I. By golly, 
we ’ll both have the law of that pair of scamps ! ’ ’ 

Tom smiled. “Well, they didn’t get what they were 
looking for,” he said lightly. 

Pringle glanced at him sharply. “No. And I can’t 
guess what it was they were looking for. You saw 
what was in the box?” 

“Yes. It was full of furs.” 

‘ 4 That ’s all ; just furs. Why would anyone be break- 
ing into Widdicome’s house to hunt through a box of 
furs?” 

His audience of three made no reply, and Pringle, 
after a furtive glance at each other, assumed a lighter 
and more jocular manner. “You might have thought 
they were after diamonds, or something like that. Hid 
you ever see anyone look so mad as they did when they 
pulled out those furs? Some things Silas had bought 
and paid for, and was going to sell to some of 
his customers. There’s a lot of summer people 
along the coast who like to buy furs when they’re up 
here.” 


151 


REFUGEE ROCK 


4 ‘Where does he get the furs?” Rodney inquired in 
his most innocent tone. 

“Oh, anywhere. There are always trappers roam- 
ing about. I don’t know very much about Widdi- 
come ’s business. I’ma farmer myself ; live a half-mile 
out of town on the pike. It just happened I was spend- 
ing the evening with Silas. He’s a first cousin of my 
mother. ’ 9 Evidently Pringle thought he had explained 
the furs satisfactorily, for he now changed the subject. 
“I don’t know what you were doing in that storeroom, 
but you certainly helped us out when it came to dealing 
with those scamps. I guess we’ll let it stand there. 
Shake hands on it, and no more questions asked. I 
like you young fellers. If you ever come out my way, 
drop in and take a meal with us. But I guess you 
won’t be staying ’round Swannock’s Neck very long.” 

“We don’t know just how long,” Tom answered non- 
committally. 

Pringle turned up the main street, and the three went 
down to the wharf. “Only a box of furs!” chuckled 
Rodney. “ I ’ll bet you couldn ’t find that box in Widdi- 
come’s store to-morrow.” 

“Well, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea of what 
Widdicome and Pringle are doing,” said Tom. 
“They’re helping the men on the smack bring furs into 
152 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 


this country from Canada and sell them here, without 
paying any duty on them. But what were Disdoff and 
Veedol expecting to find in that box?” 

“Ask Steve,” suggested Rodney. “Perhaps his 
friend Ivan, the bearded man, told him what they were 
hunting.” 

“All I know,” said Stephen, “is that I hadn’t much 
more than left you two and rounded the house on the 
corner before I ran full tilt into those three foreigners. 
Ivan collared me, and I want you to know that when 
that man gets his fingers on you you might as well be 
a sardine on the point of a harpoon — he ’s got you ; and 
there’s no use trying to squirm free. They had a long 
confab in their native tongue, which didn’t help me a 
bit ; and then Ivan conducted me politely but firmly to 
the old curiosity shop where you found me, and sat 
me down there and tied my hands and told me to be 
a good boy and behave myself. The other two went off 
somewhere by themselves.” 

“We can tell you where they went,” said Tom. His 
account of what had happened on the upper floor of 
Silas Widdicome’s house was brief and graphic, but it 
lost nothing of its humorous aspect in his telling. 

Stephen laughed. By now they had reached and em- 
barked in the Penguin, and as they left the shore Ste- 
153 


REFUGEE ROCK 


phen laughed louder and louder at the picture of the 
wild chase down the stairs of the storekeeper’s house. 
“But I thought you two were some runners!” he gur- 
gled. “And yet you let that Disdoff and that Pringle 
get away from you ! I wish I’d been there. I’d have 
shown you how to hoof it ! ” 

The others were laughing now. “Perhaps Widdi- 
come wasn’t mad when his wife caught hold of him!” 
chortled Tom. “He’d have liked to eat those two ras- 
cals up. You ought to have seen his face when little 
fat Yeedol shoved him away from that box of furs !” 

“And I guess Pringle had the surprise of his life 
when he found Tom and me there in the store room!” 
Rodney attempted to express Pringle’s feelings by an 
unearthly groan. “That’s the way he sounded, the 
way a paper bag does when you blow it full of air and 
then explode it. ’ ’ 

It was after midnight when they reached the landing 
on the Rock. The island was perfectly still; their 
voices sounded loud as they left the boat and walked 
up on the beach. But as they approached the path a 
figure in white came down toward them, Pierre Ro- 
maine in his suit of flannels. “I saw the Penguin 
from my porch,” said he, “and I wanted to know what 
had happened. You said you’d be back soon.” 

154 


THE OLD JUNK SHOP 


“It's a great yarn, ,, answered Tom; and there on 
the beach he spun it, supplemented from time to time 
by Rodney and Stephen. “So you see weVe got one 
part of this pretty clear,’ ’ he concluded. “The smug- 
glers’ part. But Veedol and Disdoff didn’t care a con- 
tinental for those furs.” 

“Of course they didn’t,” laughed Romaine. “My 
word, but I would like to have seen them when they 
pulled out that storekeeper’s treasure! Furs! 
They’ve got plenty of furs in their own country!” 

“What do you think they expected to find?” asked 
Rodney. 

Romaine smiled. “I must beg your leave not to 
answer that. Perhaps I will tell you some day. But I 
don’t think they’re looking for anything that will reach 
the smugglers’ hands.” 

They turned again to the path, but before they had 
reached it there came a loud explosion somewhere to 
the east. On the still night air the reverberations 
echoed. A gull, startled from slumber, went scream- 
iiig out to sea. 

4 4 Hello ! What ’s that ? ’ ’ exclaimed Romaine. 

4 4 Dynamite!” suggested Stephen. 

They stood still, listening for a second report. 
None came. The night grew silent again. 

155 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“It did sound over somewhere near that ravine,’ ’ 
said Tom. 

“It’s odd,” said Romaine. “If that sign is simply 
a blind to keep people away, how do you account for 
that explosion?” 

None of them had an answer. There seemed no like- 
lihood of another report. But as they waited a differ- 
ent sound intruded on the silence, the humming sound 
of a motor boat approaching. 

All looked out on the water. Round the point came 
a boat with a single passenger visible. At a consider- 
able distance the boat sped parallel to the shore. 

“Benjamin Craddock!” said Rodney. 

“He heard the explosion,” said Stephen. “Maybe 
he got his fingers burned.” 

Without shifting its course the boat sped on, and 
shortly was lost in the darkness. 

“You’ve got good eyes, Rodney,” said Romaine. 

“You see I’ve been in that boat,” was the answer. 
“I remember the funny noise the engine makes. It’s 
got a sort of a burr.” 

“And I thought all was quiet on Refugee Rock to- 
night,” said Romaine. “Let’s be getting up to the 
house and bolt the doors before anything more hap- 
pens.” 


156 


XII 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 

U TT 7 E’RE due for a change of weather, lads,” 
V V sa ^ Pi erre Romaine, squinting up at the 
sky the next afternoon. “ Wind's shifting into the 
east, and you can begin to hear the pines whispering 
to each other. Is the Penguin safely stowed for a 
storm, Tom?” 

“Yes, I think she’s safe enough. If the wind gets 
round too much to the north I may run for Swannock’s 
Neck, but not yet awhile. The point and the reef make 
a pretty good breakwater.” 

They were sitting on the porch of the cottage after 
lunch. Rodney, with Caesar lying across his lap, was 
lolling in the swinging seat. Stephen was perched on 
a rail, his back against a post. Tom sat on the steps, 
a pair of field-glasses in his hands, and with these he 
swept the rim of the distant ocean every little while. 
Romaine half sat, half reclined in a big wicker chair, 
and Simmons every few minutes stopped in the door- 
way as if to make sure that his master was still safe. 
157 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“No sign of the smugglers’ boat, Tom!” Romaine 
inquired presently. 

“Not a sign of anything more exciting than a string 
of coal barges ’way, ’way out,” was the answer. 

Romaine twisted his head, and seeing that Simmons 
had made one of his periodic halts at the door, re- 
marked, “I say, Simmons, why didn’t you guess that 
those fellows on the smack were smugglers?” 

“I fancy it must have been because my attention was 
entirely devoted to your own safety, Mr. Pierre. I 
thought they must be in some way concerned with you, 
you see.” 

“Ah, you must get away from that narrow point of 
view, Simmons. I am not the sole centre of attraction 
in these parts. I daresay that thought will be a relief 
to your mind.” 

“It is, sir, it is. I wish that everyone around here 
was no more wicked than smugglers. ’ ’ 

“Why, Simmons, you surprise mel You don’t ap- 
prove of such law-breakers, do you ? ’ ’ 

The English servant was quite accustomed to his 
master’s banter, but it never failed to bring a flush 
and a look of confusion to his face. “As a matter of 
principle I can’t say that I approve of any law- 
breaking, sir. But as a matter of fact I don’t care if 
158 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


they smuggle the whole of Canada into the United 
States provided they don ’t do you any harm. ’ ’ 

i ‘ Very wrong of you, Simmons, very wrong .’ 9 Ro- 
maine sat up straighter and shook his finger mock- 
seriously at the man in the doorway. “I should 
think — 99 

There he stopped, however, for Caesar gave a low 
threatening growl and proceeded to climb down from 
Rodney’s lap. 

“ What’s up?” said Stephen, swinging around on 
the railing. 

A man was coming out of the trees at the top of the 
hill. With slow, dignified steps, and evidently warm 
from his climb up from the water Silas Widdi- 
come marched across the open space toward the 
porch. 

“Down, Caesar, down,” Romaine commanded, and 
caught his fingers in the dog’s hair. 

Widdicome halted in front of the steps, and then, 
apparently recognising Tom, smiled. “Good after- 
noon. You’re the lad that was in my house last night, 
aren ’t you ? ’ ’ 

“Yes; and there’s the other,” said Tom, pointing to 
Rodney. 

“And you’re the man who’s taken this place for the 
159 


REFUGEE ROCK 


summer !” Widdicome continued, looking at the occu- 
pant of the easy chair. 

“ Precisely so, sir. My name is Romaine. Won’t 
you sit down ? It ’s quite a climb to my airy fastness. ’ ’ 

Widdicome took off his straw hat and seated himself 
in a chair. He appeared a perfectly guileless old man, 
a shrewd enough storekeeper for such a place as Swan- 
nock’s Neck, but in no sense a rascal. “ And my name 
is Silas Widdicome,” he explained. “I suppose the 
lads here have told you what happened to me last 
night!” 

Romaine nodded. “ A couple of men broke into your 
house.” 

“Yes, sir, they did. I dunno what they were after, 
but all they found was a box of furs I’d bought for 
some customers. My friend Abe Pringle came in to see 
me this morning, and told me how he’d met the lads 
afterwards. It was a mighty queer business.” 

“It sounded so, Mr. Widdicome,” agreed Romaine. 
“And have you sworn out warrants for the house- 
breakers!” 

Widdicome reddened a bit, and twisted the end of 
his beard in his fingers as if not wholly at ease. 
“Well, I haven’t yet,” he admitted. “The two were 
foreigners, and foreigners are slippery critters.” 

160 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


“I know. But still they broke into your house and 
handled you pretty roughly.” Romaine looked quite 
concerned. “Pm sure my two young friends here, 
Tom and Rodney, would be only too glad to appear as 
witnesses to what happened last night.” 

“Very kind, very kind of them.” Widdicome 
squinted out at the sun, then looked back at Romaine. 
“But supposing they was asked how they came to be 
up in my house? There’s that question too.” 

“Yes, that is a question. I take it they must have 
been interested in seeing what you were doing. ’ 9 

“Well, they found out,” was the slightly defiant re- 
joinder. “I was attending to business, same as I al- 
ways do . 9 9 

It was clear that Silas Widdicome was exceedingly 
curious to know what the two young fellows had been 
doing in his house late at night. It was equally clear, 
however, that he wanted to impress on them all the 
fact that he had a perfect legal right to have the box 
of furs in his possession. If he should imply that Tom 
and Rodney must have broken into his house as Vee- 
dol and Disdoff had done and been there unlawfully 
then it was possible that the two lads would answer by 
saying that they had seen the box taken from the island 
to the village and had suspected smuggling. Unless 
161 


REFUGEE ROCK 


the storekeeper could be certain that the others knew 
nothing of the actual history of the furs it would be 
unsafe for him to complain of the actions of Tom and 
Rodney the night before. The shipmates understood 
perfectly Widdicome ’s fix, and volunteered no informa- 
tion. 

Romaine, who also understood the situation thor- 
oughly, and who was enjoying the visitor’s embarrass- 
ment, smiled pleasantly at the last remark and nodded 
in agreement. “Well, if a man is always attending 
strictly to business — as you say you were — he can’t go 
very far wrong, can he, Mr. Widdicome ? ’ ’ 

“Of course he can’t. That’s what I always say to 
the lazy loafers who go prying ’round in other folks’ 
affairs. ’ ’ Widdicome, however, was evidently not yet 
entirely satisfied that those on the porch were thor- 
oughly friendly to him, as his next words showed. “I 
was thinking, perhaps,” he said slowly, “that these 
three lads here, and you too, Mr. Romaine, might like 
some of those furs. I’ve got plenty of them, and I’d 
like to make you all a gift. Just by way of return for 
the help you gave me last night. ’ ’ 

All his hearers smiled, the attempt at a bribe was so 
obvious. 

“You’re very kind,” said Tom, speaking for the 
162 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


others, “but we really don’t want any pay for what 
we did.” 

“It isn’t exactly pay,” returned the embarrassed 
Widdicome. “I’d like you fellers to have some of the 
furs.” Avoiding their smiling eyes he glanced away 
from the porch. Then he gave a little exclamation of 
surprise. “Why, bless me, here comes Ben Craddock! 
What’s he doing out here?” 

“You and he are old friends?” said Romaine, follow- 
ing the other’s glance. 

“Oh, yes, that we are. And Ben’s the prize busy- 
body of these parts,” the storekeeper muttered. 

Craddock was perhaps as much surprised to see 
Widdicome as the latter was to see him. “Hello, 
Silas; you here? Afternoon, everybody,” he ex- 
claimed as he reached the steps. “Holding a little 
pow-wow on the state of things in general?” 

“I came out to see Mr. Romaine about some things he 
ordered at the store,” Widdicome put in quickly. “I 
haven’t been out here before this summer,” he added, 
almost as if in excuse. 

“Well, I drop in on him occasionally,” said Crad- 
dock. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t come up here last night,” said 
Romaine. 


163 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Craddock glanced sharply at him; then hesitated. 
“ Anything interesting happen ?” 

1 i There was an explosion down on the beach. It 
sonnded like dynamite.” 

“For goodness ’ sake!” Craddock pretended great 
surprise. ‘ ‘ What do you know about that, Silas ? Did 
you hear anything concerning it this morning?” 

“Not a word, Ben. You’d be more likely to hear 
any tales than I would at the store. ’ 9 

It was clear there was a certain hostility between 
these two old residents of Swannock’s Neck. The 
storekeeper, still fingering his beard, eyed the fisher- 
man suspiciously, and the latter returned his gaze with 
scarcely concealed resentment. Romaine came to the 
rescue with soothing words. 

“The explosion didn’t alarm me, Craddock. As you 
know, there are always boats coming and going along 
the shore. Some people may have landed from one of 
them, and fired a keg of powder for a lark.” 

“That’s it, likely enough,” Widdicome quickly 
agreed. “It’s a nice, quiet place along here most of 
the time. What do you want to alarm the summer 
visitors for, Ben?” 

“A nice, quiet place sometimes ,” Craddock retorted. 
“Likely it’s nice and quiet enough in your store, Silas. 

164 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


But why is that schooner staying so long at the village ? 
She’s not taking anything on board. What is she do- 
ing here?” 

“What’s your notion, Ben?” Widdicome couldn’t 
keep a note of interest out of his voice. 

“Aha I That makes you sit up, does it, Silas? 
What do you know about her ? ’ ’ 

“Nothing. She’s got foreigners aboard. Every- 
body knows that.” 

“Oh, so you do know something? I kinder had an 
idea you kept your eyes and your ears shut. Well, you 
can’t learn nothing from me. I can be like a clam when 
I want to.” 

Widdicome was about to reply hotly when Romaine 
interposed. “There, there, my friends. I’m sure we 
all know Mr. Craddock can be like a clam whenever he 
chooses. And Mr. Widdicome has the reputation of 
attending strictly to his own business. It’s too fine an 
afternoon to spend in arguments. ’ ’ 

“I guess I’ve finished my business here,” said the 
storekeeper with an impressive air of dignity. “You 
understand, Mr. Romaine, that if I can do anything to 
please you or your friends here, I shall be very glad 
to do so. I’m a man who likes to make friends with 
everyone.” 


165 


REFUGEE ROCK 


With a wave of the hand, and a flicker of his eyelids 
as he surveyed Craddock, Widdicome walked down the 
steps and proceeded with stately tread to the path that 
led down to the shore. 

“And a good riddance too,” murmured Craddock. 
“Did you ever see anybody put on such airs?” 

“He has weighty matters on his mind,” said Ro- 
maine, winking at Rodney. 

The fisherman greeted this remark with a sarcastic 
grunt. “Pins and needles and such like truck! 
That ’s what he has on his mind ! What was he trying 
to sell you?” 

“He wasn’t trying to sell us anything,” Romaine 
answered. “He wanted to give us something.” 

That idea, however, seemed so utterly absurd to 
Craddock that he burst into laughter, slapping his 
knee, and chortling, ‘ ‘ That ’s a good one ! Oh, that is a 
good one ! I say, that is a mighty good one !” 

Romaine and his three guests laughed too, although 
not for the same reason that prompted Benjamin 
Craddock’s merriment. 

The joke having been thoroughly appreciated, the 
fisherman turned to a more engrossing subject. “So 
you heard that explosion down on the beach last night? 
Well, I saw it. Leastways I might have seen it if it 
166 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


hadn’t been so dark. I wasn’t more than a hundred 
yards from the mouth of that ravine when something 
went off up there that sounded like a cannon. There 
was a roar and a rumble, and things went flying up in 
the air. I didn’t know but what the whole rock was 
going to explode ; so I took to my boat and got away 
as fast as I could.” 

4 ‘There was only one explosion,” said Tom. 

“What did it mean?” asked Craddock. 

Each of the others shook his head. 

“Well, I came over here this afternoon thinking I’d 
have a look at the place. I thought p ’raps you young 
fellows might like to go along.” 

As a matter of fact the mates had that morning 
found the remains of a powder keg at the entrance to 
the gulley. But they had been able to make nothing of 
that discovery, and were quite ready to see w’hat deduc- 
tions Craddock might draw from it. Each of the three 
stood up, signifying acceptance of the invitation. 

“All right. You go along,” said Romaine. “I 
promised Dan I’d give him a fencing lesson. I’ll be 
along after you in half-an-hour or so.” 

The fisherman started off with Rodney and Tom. 
Stephen waited to see Romaine begin his lesson with 
Dan on the tennis court. Dan, though an eager, was 
167 


REFUGEE ROCK 


not a very skillful pupil, and after Stephen had 
watched Romaine make the boy repeat the same mo- 
tions with his wooden wand a score of times he decided 
it would be more amusing to follow Craddock. 

The others were out of sight as he went along the 
trail that led by the winding route they had taken the 
first day. Presently, however, figuring that he could 
reach the gulley by a shorter way, he left the path and 
clambered over rocky, bush-grown ground. This 
brought him high above the beach, which was hidden by 
screening pines. Through the trees every now and 
again he caught the glint of sunlight on the water. 
After a time he stopped and looked out, his eyes rov- 
ing over the silvery blue ocean. Then he turned 
quickly; he had heard some movement in the trees to 
his left. 

It was the big, bearded Ivan who stood before him, 
looking more enormous than ever as he stepped up on 
a rock at the edge of the pines. And even in that mo- 
ment of surprise Stephen realized that the man was 
a splendid figure, strange in his bottle-green coat and 
red waistcoat, distinctly foreign and distinctly drama- 
tic, intensely interesting. 

The man’s eyes held a glittering smile under his 
bushy black brows as he surveyed the young fellow. 

168 



It Was the Big Bearded Ivan Who Stood Before Him 


























































0 







- 












V 





















-V 



































































































* 














WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


In the faintest imitation of a bow, he gestured with 
head and hands. “So we meet again, my gentleman ! ’ ’ 
said he with a rising reflection. “You were tired of 
sitting where I left you last night, and so took your 
departure. I admit that I should have done the 
same.” The words were said with an accent, but 
otherwise in good English. The tone was polite, 
though tinged with irony. 

“Yes, you’ve guessed right,” agreed Stephen. “I 
did get tired of that dark, smelly place. I’m sorry I 
didn’t get a chance to say good night.” 

“It matters nothing,” said the man. And for a 
space he regarded Stephen in silence, as if considering 
what he should do next. 

“Well, what’s your trouble!” Stephen demanded 
presently, fidgeting a bit under that scrutiny. “You 
look as if you had something on your mind.” 

“What is Mr. Romaine to you!” demanded the other 
abruptly. 

“Oh, come now. I haven’t said anything about 
Mr. Romaine.” 

“He is nothing to you,” the other continued. “You 
know nothing about him. But I, I, Ivan Levine, know 
everything about him. He comes from my province. 
He belongs to us. ’ ’ 


169 


REFUGEE ROCK 


‘ 4 Well, of course, Mr. Levine, you know more about 
that than I do.” 

“You are right. I know more. I know all. You 
and your friends leave this place. You can do noth- 
ing here, but bring trouble on yourselves. ’ ’ 

“As to that,” said Stephen, “it’s open to argu- 
ment. And as to leaving this place, I and my friends 
are the kind who are more apt to stay the more peo- 
ple want us to go.” 

Levine’s brows drew together, his eyes were not so 
agreeable. “Romaine and I have something to set- 
tle between us. It concerns our country ; it has nothing 
to do with you.” 

“Now if you would tell me what it is, I might be 
able to judge of that,” Stephen answered audaciously. 

“I care nothing for your judgment. This matter 
has been settled across the sea. We have come here 
to finish it.” 

“Very good,” said Stephen. “But let me tell you 
this. When you bring your affairs over here you’ve 
got to take account of the people who live here. 
You’ve got to play fair. If you have anything against 
Mr. Romaine, come out in the open and tell us what 
it is.” 

“I tell nothing,” Levine retorted. 

170 


WIDDICOME CALLS AT THE ROCK 


“Very well then. Have it your own way; but take 
the consequences. I know nothing against Mr. Ro- 
maine. I like him, and my two friends like him. 
We’re going to do what we can to help him. And if 
any trouble comes of it, the responsibility’s all on 
your head.” 

Levine growled something unintelligible to Stephen. 

“ I think that ’s all I have to say. ’ ’ Stephen assumed 
a look of indifference that he was far from feeling. 
“Au revoir, Mr. Levine.” 

He started to walk on, uncertain whether the other 
would try to stop him or not. For a moment it looked 
as if the big man would have something more to say, 
might even lay hands on this bold youngster. 

Levine growled again, coming down from the rock 
and putting himself athwart the path of Stephen. 

Then, from somewhere below the ridge of pines, came 
a cry, followed by several more. 

“Ah!” exclaimed Levine, and brushing past 
Stephen he started precipitately down the rough 
slope. 

Stephen turned to the trees. He was above a cliff. 
Throwing himself on the ground he pushed forward 
until he could look over the edge. On the beach be- 
low he saw excited men. 

171 


XIII 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 

I T took Stephen several minutes to understand what 
was going on below him on the beach. He was 
near the entrance to the ravine, and at that place a 
number of people had gathered, and were apparently 
indulging in wordy dispute. Directly beneath the 
edge of the cliff over which he was peering Nicholas 
Veedol stood, his hands on his hips and his head bob- 
bing up and down as he talked excitedly. Stephen 
could have dropped a pebble and have it land on the 
head of the short, stout man. 

A short distance away stood Paul Disdoff , also talk- 
ing rapidly and emphasizing his remarks by slapping 
his hands together. And opposite these two were four 
men whom Stephen felt certain had come from the 
fishing- smack j one young fellow and three weather- 
beaten sailors. 

This group appeared to be listening in sullen silence 
to the outburst of words from the two foreigners. 
Once one of the sailors started to speak, and another 
172 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 


raised his hand and said, “Let ’em be, Bill! Let ’em 
be! It’ll do ’em good to get it out of their systems.” 

Stephen thought he could size up the situation. 
Yeedol and Disdoff had been exploring the island, per- 
haps hunting for something on it, and had come upon 
the others just as the latter were entering or leaving 
the ravine. A small wooden box that was resting at 
the feet of the younger sailor made it appear as if 
the crew had either been taking something there or 
carrying something away. Words had followed be- 
tween the two parties; there was the prospect of a 
tight. 

The foreigners ran out of breath and desisted from 
their extravagant words and gestures. One of the 
crew from the smack answered. “That’s all very 
well, maties,” said he. “We don’t just get the hang 
of what you’re talking about, but it sounds interest- 
ing. What we wanted you to understand is that we 
don ’t want you around here. This is a sort of a private 
place of ours, and we don’t care to have strangers 
landing. There’s plenty of other islands about. 
Chase yourselves; chase yourselves. That’s what we 
mean.” He made a gesture of shooing chickens, while 
his companions seconded his efforts by waves of their 
hands. 


173 


REFUGEE ROCK 


It was at this point that Ivan Levine, having raced 
down the hill and hastened along the beach, joined his 
two friends. He had evidently heard the last of their 
opponent’s speech, and now took it upon himself to 
answer. “No one can drive ns away, ’ ’ he said. ‘ ‘ Are 
you servants of Pierre Romaine?” 

The man from the smack stared. “Servants? No, 
I reckon we’re not. Who are you people anyway?” 

Levine ignored the question. “If you’re not in Ro- 
maine’s pay, what are you doing in this place?” 

The other laughed — roared would express it better 
— and looked at his comrades. “Hear that, boys? 
Hear what this fresh guy asks? He wants to know 
what we’re doing in this place. Pretty good joke that, 
eh?” Then, with an air of mock-humility, he took 
off his cap and bowed. “Your high mightiness, the 
truth of the matter is we were thinking of buying this 
here rocky spot. Have you any objection?” 

Yeedol muttered something to Levine. The bearded 
man nodded. “What have you got in that box?” he 
demanded, pointing. 

“My, my, but you’re long on asking questions, you 
are,” was the answer. “I don’t mind telling you. 
We’ve got bait in that box. We’re fishermen. We 
fish for cunners and whales along the shore here.” 

174 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 


This conversation might have continued indefinitely 
had not a most untoward thing happened. Some- 
where on the high shelving hank above the ravine 
Craddock and Tom and Rodney had been concealed, 
overlooking the scene at a little distance from Stephen. 
Craddock, leaning forward, had loosened a stone, which 
started to roll down, carrying some of the shaley 
surface with it. The mass came plump at the feet of 
the nearest of the men from the smack, who jumped 
back and then glared angrily up the hillside. 

“What’s that!” he yelled. 

The answer was the surprising arrival of Benjamin 
Craddock on the same spot as the rock and shale. The 
shelving ground had loosened and he had shot down, 
rolling over and over as he tried to stop his course by 
catching at roots and bushes. 

The man on the beach exclaimed aloud, “Hully 
Gee! Look at what’s cornin’ down the cliff! Where 
did he drop from?” 

Again there came an answer. This time Tom and 
Rodney, fearing lest trouble might befall their com- 
panion without their aid, coasted down the hillside 
after him. More fortunate than Craddock, they knew 
what they were doing, and landed on their feet. 

“It’s a picnic party !” cried the man from the smack. 

175 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“ There’s the fellow that ran away from ns the other 
night.” 

“Any more coming!” asked Bill. “It’s a nice soft 
place to land on, pervided you don’t hit my head.” 

It had not been a soft place for Craddock, however. 
He groaned a little as Tom and Rodney picked him up 
and helped him to sit down on a boulder. “Plague 
take it,” he groaned. “I’d ought to have known bet- 
ter. I’m an old fool; that’s what I am.” 

“We don’t want to contradict you,” said Bill. “It 
ain’t polite. Is there any more coming!” He looked 
up the slope, and shook his head. “No, boys, that’s 
all for to-day. The party is complete. Looks like this 
island had as many people on it as there is in New 
York.” 

The unexpected arrival of Benjamin Craddock had 
undoubtedly somewhat relieved the tension of the situa- 
tion. The men from the smack were grinning at Bill’s 
humor, and the three foreigners, now standing close 
together, looked less peppery and more willing to be 
reasonable. 

“Now what I want to know,” Bill continued after 
a little pause, during which he had been scratching 
his chin thoughtfully, “is why you all picked out this 
particular little island to land on and raise Cain on! 
176 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 

There ’s about a million more of them between Casco 
Bay and Mount Desert, and this one don’t look so all- 
fired more attractive than the rest.” 

No one vouchsafed an answer to this question, so 
Bill went on talking, his voice assuming a slightly 
injured note. “We were the first ones here, and it 
seems to me you ought to be decent enough to go 
away and pick out some other island. It isn’t much of 
a place, but me and my friends have taken a liking 
to it. ’ ’ 

“The place belongs to Mr. Romaine,” said Crad- 
dock, who had now partially recovered from his fall 
and was regarding Bill and his companion with a 
vengeful eye. “He’s rented it for the summer.” 

“Romaine? Romaine? Where have I heard that 
name before?” Bill reflected a minute. “Oh yes, 
that’s the fellow the man in the red vest over there was 
talking about. Well, this Mr. Romaine hasn’t said 
anything to us about moving off his island. ’ ’ 

“I don’t think he minds anyone being here,” spoke 
up Tom, i ‘ so long as they don ’t try to make trouble. ’ ’ 
“Well, those three fellows want to make trouble 
right enough,” returned Bill. “Look at them. Do 
they look like peaceable people?” 

The three strangers, thus suddenly pointed out, 

177 


REFUGEE ROCK 

" “ 1 ■■■■ ' ' 1 = S 

glared at the attention and certainly looked anything 
but amiable. 

‘ ‘ No, ’ ’ said Tom. i ‘ Mr. Romaine doesn ’t want them 
here. I’m sure of that.” 

The man from the smack jumped at this chance of 
enlisting the latest arrivals on his side of the dis- 
pute. ‘ ‘Of course he doesn’t. Nobody would want 
such people around.” He waved his hand at Levine. 
4 ‘ Don’t you think you’d better toddle along before 
you get into trouble. ’ ’ 

Levine stuck his hand between the buttons of his 
scarlet waistcoat; he had a trick of striking dramatic 
attitudes. “We shall do as we please,” he asserted. 
“If Romaine wants us to go, let him come and tell us 
so to our faces.” 

“Oh, he’s not going to do that,” said Craddock, 
“lie’s not worrying about you. He doesn’t care a 
snap of his fingers whether you go or stay.” 

A dull flush came to Levine’s face. It seemed as 
if in some way Craddock’s brusque words had injured 
his self-esteem. But little fat Veedol spoke before 
the big man could find his answer. “He doesn’t care, 
you say? Romaine is shaking in his boots this very 
minute; and well he may too!” 

“Oho!” cried Bill, breaking into laughter. “So 
178 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 


you’ve got something up your sleeve for Mr. Romaine, 
have you?” He turned to Craddock. “Hadn’t you 
better go and tell the gentleman that these here three 
high mightinesses are waiting to stick a knife between 
his ribs?” 

“He knows they’ve been prowling about,” said Tom. 

“What are they after anyway?” demanded Bill. 

Tom shrugged his shoulders. “They’re plotting 
something against Mr. Romaine. That’s all I know.” 

“Plotters, are they?” The man from the smack 
scowled. “Low-life plotters! Waiting to do some- 
thing to him in the dark. I’m glad you told me. No, 
we don’t want any plotters around here.” He took 
a couple of steps forward, his face menacing. “Now 
see here. Will you leave this island peaceably, or 
shall we throw you off?” 

Avoiding the direct answer, Levine and his two 
companions suddenly turned on their heels and walked 
away. Up the beach they went until they were hid- 
den by the next ledge of rocks. 

“Didn’t want to be thrown off, eh?” said Bill. He 
shook his head as he looked again at Tom. “Well, I’m 
sorry for this Mr. Romaine if he ’s got those three wait- 
ing to do him an ill turn. They look to me like crooks. ’ ’ 
Then, assuming a very friendly air, he continued. ‘ ‘ Of 
179 


REFUGEE ROCK 


course you’ve got a right here. I can see that you’re 
friends of the gentleman who lives on this island. And 
of course we’ve got a right here. We’re fishing off 
the coast and we run in here now and then for bait 
and such things. We did play a little game on the 
lad there.” He motioned toward Rodney. “But it 
was only for the sake of sport. We didn’t do him no 
harm. There’s lots of room for all of us around here, 
I should say.” 

Stephen, still lying on the edge of the clitf and watch- 
ing the scene below him, suddenly rose to his knees. 
It had occurred to him that perhaps the three for- 
eigners were not leaving the island, but were on their 
way to pay a visit to Pierre Romaine at his cottage. 
Romaine ought to be warned of their presence on the 
Rock. 

Getting to his feet, he hurried over the stony pasture 
that lay above the cliff. Taking a bee line, he made 
for the plateau. If Simmons was in the house there 
mightn’t be so much danger for Romaine; but if the 
latter were alone his enemies might make it unpleasant 
for him. 

To his relief, as he pushed through the circle of trees 
and caught sight of the cottage he found the house quiet 
and apparently undisturbed. The afternoon sun, well 
180 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 


on its way to the west by now, was already sending pur- 
ple shadows from the pines across the clearing, and 
the place looked cool and restful. He stopped in the 
shade of the trees and sat down on a bed of moss to 
get back his breath after his race up hill. 

He was sitting there when Simmons came out 
through the open door to the porch. As it happened 
Stephen was hidden from the other’s view. The Eng- 
lish servant went to the far end of the porch and looked 
out toward the ocean, where the distant rim of blue 
was visible above the dip of the pines. Then he went 
back and disappeared in the house. 

Almost immediately he came out again, this time 
carrying a large pasteboard box under each arm. He 
gazed cautiously about him in each direction, then 
walked briskly down the steps, crossed the open space 
to the north, and was lost in the path that led down 
through the woods. Stephen had the impression that 
Simmons was doing something that he wanted no one 
to see. 

What was the servant doing? Carrying things from 
his master’s house and hiding them? This was the 
second time Simmons had been observed apparently 
doing that. Could it be that Simmons was not as 
trustworthy as he appeared? Stephen pondered over 
181 


REFUGEE ROCK 


this for a short time, and then, as the man did not re- 
turn, he got up and went over to the cottage. 

The door was wide open, and Stephen went in. 
There was no one in the living room, no one in the 
kitchen. He called ‘ ‘ Hello !” There came no answer 
from above-stairs. Pierre Romaine, as well as Han 
and Caesar, was away from the house. 

Stephen went out and sat down on the porch. What 
was it that Simmons was up to? What was he carry- 
ing from the house, and what was his object in hiding 
things on the island? While Stephen was pondering 
this, Romaine appeared in the clearing. He was com- 
ing up to the house from the same direction in which 
Stephen had come. Under his arm was tucked his 
rapier in its sheath of dark brown leather. 

“ Hello, Mr. Romaine !” Stephen called, jumping up 
from his chair. 

‘ ‘ Hello, Steve. Are you keeping the home fires burn- 
ing ? ’ 9 

“ Those men, Veedol and Disdoff and the one with 
the beard, have come over to the island. They were 
down on the beach .’ 9 

“Yes, I know they were. But theyVe left now. I 
saw them pull away in their boat . 9 9 

“You’ve been watching them?” 

182 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 


“ Certainly I have. You didn’t think I was going 
to let you lads have all the fun?” 

Romaine stood by the steps, the sheathed rapier 
resting across one upraised knee. His dark eyes 
twinkled as he saw the look of surprise on Stephen’s 
face. “ I saw it all, all the scrap on the beach; and 
when my three friends took their leave I went along 
with them; not exactly with them — above them, would 
describe it more correctly — and I saw them hop into 
their boat and row away. I’ve got my eyes open, you 
see.” 

“But suppose they’d caught you, when you were 
alone ? ’ ’ 

“But I wasn’t alone, Stephen. I had my Lady 
Isabelle along with me. I’d have asked nothing better 
than to have an argument with them, with my lady in 
my hand.” He drew the rapier from its scabbard 
and held the shining blade in the sunlight. “Tell me, 
did you ever see anything half so beautiful?” 

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t meet them,” said 
Stephen. “You’d have been one against three.” 

“One against three! I shouldn’t mind being one 
against a dozen, with Isabelle here. Ah, my boy, you 
don’t know what a good sword is! I could tell you of 
exploits with a sword that Homer might have sung.” 
183 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“But suppose your enemies used pistols or took to 
throwing stones ?” Stephen objected. 

Romaine gave a little groan. “Vulgar things — 
pistols and stones. Yet there is something in what 
you say.” Reluctantly he slid the blade back into its 
cover. 

As he stepped up on the porch Tom and Rodney 
arrived. They were surprised to learn that Stephen 
and Romaine had witnessed the happenings on the 
beach. What they added that the other two did not 
know was that, after a little more talk, the men from 
the smack had departed, rowing away to the north, as 
if to rejoin their ship. 

“And the funny thing is,” said Rodney, “that they 
acted as if they thought we were really their friends. 
They told us not to be afraid of the foreigners; they’d 
see that those fellows didn’t do you or us any harm.” 

“They talked as if they were just as honest as they 
could be, ’ ’ added Tom was a grin. 

“A pretty lot,” said Romaine. “Smugglers! But 
I don ’t take any stock in their being able to frighten my 
enemies away.” 

“What became of Craddock?” asked Stephen. 

“He went back to the village,” said Rodney. “I’m 
sure he’s on to what those men from the smack are 
184 


WHEN THIEF MEETS THIEF 


doing, but he doesn’t want to tell us yet. Perhaps 
he wants to catch them red-handed and claim some re- 
ward. ’ 9 

They all went into the house. It was not long be- 
fore Dan and Caesar returned, the boy having been in 
swimming in a little cove to the west of the island. 
But it was some time before Simmons made his ap- 
pearance, and he said nothing concerning what he had 
been doing. Immediately he went to work setting the 
table for dinner. Several times, as he moved about 
the room, Stephen was on the point of asking him a 
question, something that might furnish a clue to his 
behavior. But each time the Englishman’s face was 
so impassive that Stephen hesitated. Simmons was 
not a man to be surprised into telling a secret. 

After dinner they sat on the porch until a rising wind 
from the northeast drove them indoors to light a fire 
on the hearth. Again Pierre Romaine told them tales 
of his adventures in Europe. But it was when he re- 
lated his meetings with famous swordsmen that his 
eyes shone brightest and his words flowed with the 
most enthusiasm. 

By the time they went upstairs to bed the cottage 
was creaking in the wind and the first drops of rain 
were pelting on the roof. 

185 


XIV 


STORM SIGNALS 

N EXT morning Eefngee Rock was swept by a 
northeaster. When Rodney looked from the 
window of his room he saw great blackish clouds scud- 
ding across a sky that was like drifts of snow. Be- 
low was the steely glitter of the ocean, ridged into fur- 
rows as the gale blew in great bursts upon it. He 
could imagine the surf that must be pounding on the 
rocks and leaping up in anger at being barred from 
the land. Even the pines, hardy sea-sentinels though 
they were, tough and wiry and deep-rooted, bent and 
swung in the tempest. As for the cottage, its walls 
groaned and its windows shook. Luckily it stood 
low, and had been built to withstand just such weather. 

“ A better day to be safe ashore than out there on 
the briny,” murmured Stephen over Rodney’s shoul- 
der. “Not much fun to be caught on a lee shore in 
a gale like that. I wonder how the Penguin’ s making 
out!” 

“Tom went down to see,” said Rodney, who had 
186 


STORM SIGNALS 


shared the room with the skipper. “ There he comes 
now.” 

In the living room Romaine was already building a 
fire. He opened the door for Tom, who blew in on a 
cold gust of air. 

“Penguin’s all right. Here, fellows, I brought your 
slickers and boots. Some wind that, and surf jump- 
ing a million miles high.” The skipper piled sou’- 
westers, tarpaulins, rubber boots on the window-seat. 
“ There’s a big sea running, but the old boat just pokes 
her nose into it and bobs up and down like a duck.” 

‘ ‘ Come over to the fire,” said Romaine, lighting 
paper and kindling. ‘ 1 Simmons ’ll have breakfast on 
the table in a minute. A hot cup of coffee ’ll go to the 
right spot this morning, Captain.” 

The guests drew up to the table. Simmons brought 
in breakfast. 

‘ ‘ This is a new experience for me,” said Romaine. 
“I’m glad I don’t live here in winter.” 

“Think of the fishing boats out on the Banks,” sug- 
gested Stephen. “People can say what they like, but 
I think the deep sea fisherman has about the toughest 
job there is going.” 

Romaine made a wry face. “Ugh!” he grunted. 
“I’ve seen their little boats wallowing in the sea from 
187 


REFUGEE ROCK 


the deck of an ocean liner; and that’s the nearest I 
want to come to them.” 

“Have you ever noticed the lookouts and the walks 
on the top of old houses along the coast here?” asked 
Tom. ‘ ‘ That ’s where the women used to watch for the 
ships homeward bound.” 

“I can imagine the joy when a ship put in, and all 
the fathers and husbands and sons and brothers 
landed.” Romaine shook his head. “But that 
wouldn’t make up for the long weeks and months of 
waiting. No, it was a mighty hard life the old fisher- 
folk led.” 

“ It ’s odd what a lure there is to the sea, ’ ’ Tom said 
thoughtfully. “Think of the thousands of men who 
have felt that they must set sail on it ! ” 

“Aye, that’s the way new lands were discovered. 
And where would such a country as England be to- 
day if it weren’t for her sailormen?” Romaine 
glanced up at Simmons, who was passing a rack of 
toast. 

“Indeed yes, Mr. Pierre,” answered the servant, who 
was used to having his master draw him into the con- 
versation. “But almost everyone in England lives 
within sight of the sea. It’s a right little, tight little 
island, sir, as the saying goes.” 

188 


STORM SIGNALS 


‘ ‘Something like Refugee Rock,” Romaine sug- 
gested. 

“Not quite so small as that, sir/ ’ Simmons answered 
solemnly. 

“But chilly enough so the people have to stir round 
to keep themselves warm,” said Romaine with twink- 
ling eyes. “Never you mind, Simmons. Your peo- 
ple are a great race. And it must be a satisfaction 
to you to reflect that, although the Vikings and the 
Spaniards discovered a great part of this continent, 
most of it was settled by Englishmen. We’re in New 
England, you know.” 

“It is a satisfaction, Mr. Pierre. And it’s a pleas- 
ure to me to hear the English tongue spoken so far 
from home; though there’s times, sir, when I go 
ashore to the village, when I’m fairly uncertain as to 
whether it’s the English tongue I’m listening to or 
not.” 

The speaker’s words raised a laugh. Simmons 
flushed. “Begging the pardon of the young gentle- 
men, of course,” he added quickly. “I wasn’t re- 
ferring to them. I’m sure they speak very good Eng- 
lish; quite as good as what I’m accustomed to hearing 
in London.” 

“There’s one for you, boys,” said the host. “And 
189 


REFUGEE ROCK 


now, if you’ve stowed away enough food to last until 
lunch, suppose we look around and see what we can 
find to amuse us this stormy morning.” 

The cottage was well provided with books. The 
outdoor world was not as attractive as the fireside. 
The shipmates read and chatted for a couple of hours. 
But presently the urge for exercise grew strong. Put- 
ting on their rough weather clothing the three and 
Romaine went out to look at the surf. 

It was worth buffeting the wind on the hillside to 
stand on the cliff and watch the gigantic rollers come 
swarming up, their white manes blowing backward, and 
crash over reefs and ledges with the roar of cannon. 
In the turmoil gulls flew about, screaming, as if giv- 
ing commands to the angry waves beneath them. As 
far as the eye could reach the sea was a seething 
cauldron. Not a sail was within sight; only the glit- 
ter of silver as the sun, piercing the clouds, now and 
then drew a line on the water. 

The four, wet with spray, their faces stung by the 
wind, made a circuit of almost the entire island. They 
found the Penguin still riding the waves without harm ; 
her anchorage being better protected by natural break- 
waters than almost any other possible mooring along 
the rocky shore. By the time they returned to the 
190 


STORM SIGNALS 


cottage they were all more than ready for the hearty 
meal Simmons and Dan had provided. 

As they were finishing lunch Simmons said to Ro- 
maine, “We do need some things from the village, 
Mr. Pierre. I was intending to go over there this 
morning, but when I went down to the beach the 
waves looked uncommon choppy ; and our rowboat, as 
you know, sir, is rather small. Perhaps, if the storm 
lets up to-morrow — ” 

“It’s a three days’ storm,” Stephen interrupted. 

“I don’t mind taking the Penguin over,” said Tom. 
“She’s a good rough weather boat, and her engine 
can drive her through any kind of sea. ’ ’ 

“Oh, I daresay we can get along without the things,” 
Romaine returned. “You’d get thoroughly soaked.” 

“I’d like to go,” Tom insisted. “Simmons, you 
give me a list of what you want, and I’ll see if Widdi- 
come has them.” 

The idea of a trip ashorfe appealed to Stephen and 
Rodney also, and so, about an hour after lunch, the 
crew of three boarded the Penguin and, with the skip- 
per at the wheel, headed her for the west. 

The motor was all that Tom had said of it. The 
steering was the difficult job, for in the channel through 
the islands there were many cross-rips caused by 
191 


REFUGEE ROCK 


ledges and shoals, and these were now seething masses 
of twisting, churning water, lashing about in all di- 
rections under the whip of the gale. 

Great waterfalls came over the bow and sides and 
fell with heavy thuds on the deck. The flooring was 
all awash. At times the Penguin resembled a rocking- 
horse, rising up with sudden speed, then dropping 
down with a pounding and creaking of wood. At other 
times she seemed to be trying to balance herself on 
her gunwale, and then her crew clutched at the top 
rail and hung on until she slanted down again and 
allowed them to get their footing. Often the engine, 
in spite of its steady humming, lost all motive power, 
the stern being out of the water; then again it sent 
the little bark squarely into walls of greenish water and 
ploughed through them as if they had been smoke. 

The crew were dripping wet; they had to shout to 
make themselves heard; but there was wild exhilara- 
tion in the struggle and all three had perfect con- 
fidence in the Penguin. Tom’s arms ached with hold- 
ing the wheel, but he kept at the post until he brought 
his boat past the last of the islands and into the 
smoother water of the harbor. Then he surrendered 
the wheel to Rodney, who brought the Penguin safely 
up to the dock. 


192 


STORM SIGNALS 


Ashore, they stamped their feet and beat themselves 
with their arms, for the wind and the water were cold. 
Then they went up through the village to Widdicome ’s 
store. It was not a day to be abroad unless one had 
to, and the street was deserted. The store also was 
empty, except for Mrs. Widdicome, who was writing 
in an account book at a little desk at the back. 

The woman looked up as they entered, and then came 
forward to wait on them. Tom read off the supplies 
from the list that Simmons had given him. As Mrs. 
Widdicome went from shelf to shelf Tom asked: “Is 
your husband at home to-day? He was over at Mr. 
Romaine’s yesterday, and he asked us to come in and 
see him.” 

Mrs. Widdicome turned and peered at them through 
her thick spectacles. “So you’re the young fellows 
who were in here the other night?” She rested her 
hand on the counter and regarded them with great 
interest. 

Tom nodded. “Two of us were here. We didn’t 
get much chance to talk to you.” 

Mrs. Widdicome shook her head. “I’ll never forget 
that night as long as I live ! I was sound asleep, and 
when I woke up it sounded as if there were about a 
million people in Silas’s room. I was that scared! 

193 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Of course I thought it was burglars, though we’ve 
never had any such people in Swannock’s Neck. And 
then I thought they were trying to kill Silas. I just 
lay there and listened. And then I screamed. And 
then I got up and went out to see what was going on. 
And first thing I knew — here they came running out, 
one after another, and dashing down the stairs fit to 
kill ! And when I saw Silas I caught at him. He was 
for going after them; but I held him back; My, but 
he was mad! But I was going to find out what it 
was all about before I let him set foot out of the 
house.’ ’ 

“And did you find out?” Stephen asked. 

Mrs. Widdicome looked doubtful. “Well, Silas said 
they were burglars. He took me up to my room and 
made me go to bed, and told me those men had broken 
into his room while he and Abe Pringle were sit- 
ting there talking. But why would burglars go up 
to my husband’s room? And what were the two of 
you doing there when it all happened?” 

She looked at each of the three, but none of them 
found an answer. Fortunately for them Widdicome 
came in through the doorway from the hall and at 
sight of them began to talk at once. 

“Well, well ! So you came over from the island, did 
194 


STORM SIGNALS 


you, in spite of the wet? Must have been a terrible 
sea runnin’ out off Mr. Romaine’s place. Well, I’m 
right glad to see ye. Martha, have we got what the 
young gentlemen want?” Widdicome was appar- 
ently perfectly delighted to welcome the three cus- 
tomers. 

“We were having a little chat, Silas.” Mrs. Widdi- 
come gazed rather disapprovingly at her husband 
through her spectacles. 

“Chat? Well, that’s nice. But maybe the young 
men are in a hurry, Martha.” 

“No, they’re not, Silas. Two of them was over 
here the other night, as perhaps you may remember.” 
The woman’s tone was a bit reproving. 

“Oh yes, I remember.” Widdicome came up to 
the counter, and looked nervously from his wife to 
the boys and then back at his wife again. 

“We were talking about that night.” Mrs. Widdi- 
come frowned. “I said you told me those men were 
burglars.” 

“Well, so they were, Martha.” The storekeeper 
looked appealingly at Tom. “You know they were 
trying to steal something from me, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” answered Tom. Tempted though he was to 
add the word “furs” he managed to resist. 

195 


REFUGEE ROCK 


‘ ‘ There,’ ’ said Widdicome triumphantly. “He 
ought to know, because he was up in the room. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Yes, that’s true, Silas. He was up in your room; 
but what was he doing there ? He wasn ’t a burglar. ’ 9 

The boys wondered what answer Widdicome would 
make to that. For a minute he gazed at his wife, then 
broke into hearty laughter. “That’s good, Martha! 
That certainly is good ! This young gentleman a bur- 
glar ! ’ 9 

Mrs. Widdicome positively glared at her chuckling 
husband. “I said of course he wasn’t a burglar. But 
what I want to know is how did he and his friend come 
to be in our house.” 

There was a short silence. Then, to the boys’ sur- 
prise, Widdicome said easily, ‘ ‘ They came because I in- 
vited them. Abe Pringle had some furs to sell, he’d 
got ’em from a trapper, and he had ’em up in my 
room. And I thought these young gentlemen might 
be interested in seeing ’em.” 

4 ‘ Abe Pringle ! Furs ! ’ ’ Mrs. Widdicome exclaimed. 
“What’s he doing with furs?” 

“How should I know, Martha? He got ’em from 
a trapper. These young gentlemen saw the furs in my 
room the other night.” He glanced at the boys, and 
as none of the three contradicted him he ran on more 
196 


STORM SIGNALS 


glibly. ‘ i And it's my opinion that those burglars 
heard about the furs, and that’s the reason they broke 
into the house.” 

Mrs. Widdicome regarded her husband with a criti- 
cal eye. ‘ ‘ Well, Silas, that’s the first time you’ve told 
me that story. Why didn’t you mention it the other 
night?” 

“You were all excited, Martha. I didn’t want to get 
you any more stirred up than you were.” 

‘ ‘ Do you think it would stir me up to hear that Abe 
had some furs in your room?” The woman’s tone 
was scornful. “You must think me pretty silly.” 
And without another word Mrs. Widdicome put out 
her hand for the list of purchases that Tom held, and 
taking it, turned away to get what was wanted. 

Somewhat abashed, Widdicome kept silent while the 
boys paid for the supplies, loaded themselves with the 
packages, and left the store. But they hadn’t gone 
more than a few yards down the street when he came 
after them. “You understand why I said what I did 
to Martha, don’t you?” he asked anxiously. “I 
wanted her to feel easy about it.” He looked at them 
thoughtfully for a moment before he went on. “Of 
course I know you didn’t come into the house to see 
the furs. I’ve been thinking about that, and I guess 
197 


REFUGEE ROCK 


I understand it all now. There Ve been some people 
prowling about that island where Mr. Romaine lives, 
and youVe all got the notion that maybe they mean 
him some harm. And somehow you thought that I was 
one of those people; and so you came up to the store 
and wanted to find out what I was doing. You saw 
the light at the window and climbed up on the shed at 
the back. That explains it right enough to me.” He 
stopped to give them a friendly smile. “Well, you 
saw what was going on; and I guess you know now 
that I’m not doing anything to hurt Mr. Romaine. I 
only had those furs for sale. I don’t want to harm 
anybody.” 

“We can see that, Mr. Widdicome,” said Stephen. 

“But I didn’t want my wife to get the notion that 
you thought I was unfriendly to Mr. Romaine. That’s 
why I spoke as I did. You understand me now?” 

“Perfectly,” agreed Tom. 

“Well, that’s all. And if I can help you or Mr. 
Romaine in any way, don’t forget I’m always ready 
and willing.” 

The storekeeper went back, and the shipmates pro- 
ceeded to the Penguin . “He’s certainly got himself in 
an awful hole,” said Rodney. “I wonder if he really 
thinks we don’t know where those furs came from?” 
198 


STORM SIGNALS 


“He doesn’t want his wife to know,” said Tom. 

‘ ‘ She ’s a pretty sharp woman, ’ ’ said Stephen. < ‘ Old 
Silas hasn’t heard the last abont that little business 
deal of his yet. I shouldn’t wonder if she wasn’t al- 
most as good a detective as our Roddy.” 

The trip back to Refugee Rock was a duplicate of 
the voyage to the village. Wet and cold, but success- 
ful, the crew arrived at the island, and climbed the 
hill to the cottage. They opened the front door and 
went in, glad of the welcoming warmth. But no 
sooner had they stepped into the living room than 
Simmons and Dan came running from the kitchen. 

4 ‘ They ’ve got him ! They ’ve got Mr. Pierre ! ’ ’ cried 
Simmons. 

“What do you mean?” Tom demanded abruptly, 
staring at the English servant. 

“Those foreigners!” answered Simmons. “He 
went for a walk a little while ago, and after a time 
Dan went out too. Then Dan came back and said he 
saw three men on the beach putting Mr. Pierre into a 
boat. They rowed away to the south. Dan couldn’t 
do anything. He ran back here and told me what 
he’d seen. I hoped you’d come soon. I didn’t know 
what to do but wait for you. What shall we do to 
rescue him?” 


199 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“I suppose they’ve taken him to the William 
Howitt,” said Rodney. 

i ‘ We’ve got to go after him!” cried Stephen 
“I want to go too,” said Simmons. 

4 4 Well, we must eat something first,” said Tom. 
“We may be out all night. You get us some food, Sim- 
mons; and while we’re eating we can decide what we’d 
better do.” 


200 


XV 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 

T HE wind howled outside while the three boys ate 
a hurried dinner. The room was lighted by the 
wood fire on the hearth and candles on the table, and 
every now and then the gusts that rattled the window- 
panes seemed to make the flames of the candles leap 
and spurt. Simmons stayed in the room, and so did 
Dan and Caesar. One thought was in the mind of 
them all: How could they get Pierre Romaine away 
from his enemies? 

The boys ate without knowing what they put in 
their mouths, they were so busy talking. But the 
sum and substance of their discussion was that they 
would take the Penguin and see if they could find the 
three foreigners. Simmons wanted to go with them, 
and so did Dan. But it seemed unwise to leave the 
cottage entirely alone to Caesar. Dan didn’t want to 
stay there all night — and in such a storm — with only 
the dog for company; and so finally it was decided that 
Simmons should stay too. It was clear that the Eng- 
201 


REFUGEE ROCK 


lishman felt his proper place was with those who were 
trying to rescue his master, but at length he reluctantly 
agreed to the arguments of the others. 

Fed and warm and dry as far as their inner clothes 
were concerned, the shipmates again put on their 
slickers, sou ’westers and boots. With Simmons and 
Dan wishing them Godspeed they went out into the 
storm. In the pocket of his coat Tom had a flashlight 
that belonged to Romaine. He had need of it at once 
to find the path that led down to the beach off which 
the Penguin lay. 

“It’s not likely the schooner would put out on such 
a night as this,” Stephen muttered while Tom was 
starting the engine. 

‘ ‘ Can ’t tell what they ’ll do, ’ ’ said Tom. “ It ’s lucky 
I know the course to the mainland pretty well by now. 
It’s dark as pitch. You two have got to keep a sharp 
lookout for rocks and ledges.” 

It was no child’s play to navigate the Penguin on 
such a night. Again and again Stephen’s or Rodney’s 
warning cry of danger ahead caused the skipper to 
sheer off quickly; more than once they rocked in a 
whirlpool of the waves like a chip tossed in the water. 
But after a zigzag fashion they stuck to their course 
until the lights of the village showed over the bow. 

202 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 


There would be risk in bringing their boat too close 
to the schooner, so the three disembarked and footed 
it along the waterfront. They passed the collection 
of little shops and warehouses and came to the small 
building where Levine had imprisoned Stephen. 
Through the murky night they could make out the 
William Howitt snug in her berth close to the shore. 

There was neither light nor sound aboard the 
schooner. Whispering together for a few minutes the 
three boys swung themselves across from shore to 
the vessel. They looked down the companionway and 
saw a light below. Descending the stairs as far as they 
dared, they crouched and had a view of the crew play- 
ing cards at the long mess table. Neither Levine nor 
Veedol nor Disdoff was among them. 

For fifteen minutes the searchers hunted about the 
schooner, looking and listening, but they neither saw 
nor heard anything that gave them a clue as to what 
had become of Romaine. 

4 Tie may be hidden there somewhere,” whispered 
Rodney, “but what are the other three doing ?” 

“It looks to me,” said Stephen, “as if they hadn’t 
brought him aboard yet. ’ ’ 

Apparently there was nothing to be gained by stay- 
ing on the schooner. They went ashore, and on the 
203 


REFUGEE ROCK 


lee side of a shed held a conference. “Even a row- 
boat would have reached here by now, ’ ’ said Tom. 
“They wouldn’t camp on an island in a storm like 
this.” 

“Do you suppose,” questioned Rodney, “that they 
don’t want the crew of the schooner to know what 
they’re doing, and have taken him somewhere else?” 

“That might be it,” agreed Stephen. “But where 
can they have taken him?” 

“Somewhere near,” said Rodney, and stepped out 
on the stormy waterfront again. 

None of them had yet followed the road beyond the 
schooner. Now they pushed along it. There were a 
few more dilapidated sheds and then a fair-sized house, 
a dwelling it might have been, from the look of it. 

There was a light on the lower floor of this house. 
There were no other lights in the neighborhood, 
no other houses so far as the boys could make out 
in the darkness. Stephen led the way up a path 
of pebbles and climber a high flight of steps to a 
porch that seemed to encircle the house on all four 
sides. 

The boards of the porch creaked, but the noise made 
by their footfalls was inaudible in the roar of the 
storm. The windows in front were shuttered ; the light 
204 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 


they had seen had shone through a side window. 
Around the porch they went and stopped at a window 
that had lost one shutter. Through the open half they 
could look into the room inside. They saw Romaine 
sitting on a packing-box, his three captors confronting 
him. Levine was leaning against a deal table, his 
arms folded. Veedol sat on a three-legged stool, bend- 
ing forward like a gigantic frog. Disdoff, smoking a 
cigarette, was swinging back and forth in an old, bat- 
tered rocking-chair. 

The house was apparently unoccupied except for the 
four men in the room. The look of the furniture indi- 
cated that the owner considered it of little value and 
had left it standing about when he shut up the dwell- 
ing. 

Levine was speaking to Romaine, shaking his head 
frequently to emphasize his words. The boys couldn’t 
hear the words, but they seemed to be in the nature 
of threats. 

Romaine appeared perfectly self-possessed. His 
hands were clasped about his knees, and his black eyes 
regarded the big, bearded man with amused toler- 
ance. 

Rodney stole along the porch to the next window. 
This had both its shutters intact, and both were fast- 

205 


REFUGEE ROCK 


ened; but he twisted the little slats in the nearer one 
so that they opened outward, and found that a part 
of the window-panes was missing. Leaning close to 
the shutter he could catch the words that were spoken 
inside. 

To his disgust, however, the words he heard were in 
a foreign tongue. After listening a few minutes he 
gave up trying to make head or tail of it, and went back 
to his companions. 

Levine talked, and so did Veedol; but they seemed to 
get no satisfactory answer from Romaine. Veedol 
took a pistol from his pocket and played with it. He 
eyed the prisoner maliciously, but presently put the 
pistol back in his jacket. Disdoff stood up, threw his 
cigarette into the empty fireplace, yawned, stretched 
his arms and turned toward the door. The door was 
bolted, and the bolt apparently rusty, for he had to 
tug at it before he could get it free. 

4 4 Come, ’ ’ said Tom. 4 4 Over the rail here. We don ’t 
want him to find us.” 

Over the rail the three slid and down into a patch 
of brambles at the side of the porch. 

In the dark there they whispered. 4 4 If Disdoff 
comes out alone we might get him,” said Stephen. 

4 4 Yes. But they’d miss him very soon,” said Tom. 

206 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 


“And that would give them warning that we’re about 
here. ’ ’ 

“It would only leave two to deal with, ,, Stephen 
argued. 

“But they’re armed,” said Rodney, “and we 
wouldn’t have the ghost of a show against them. Our 
only chance is in taking them by surprise.” 

“Hush!” came Tom’s warning. 

The three crouched in the brambles, while up on the 
porch they heard the tread of Disdoff. He was ap- 
parently making sure that the house was safe for the 
night. Presently the sound of his footsteps vanished ; 
presumably he had gone indoors again. 

After giving him plenty of time the boys regained 
their post of observation. Evidently the men inside 
intended to spend the night there. Veedol already 
was lying on an old horse-hair covered sofa. Disdoff 
had found a mattress somewhere, had placed it across 
the inside of the door, and was sitting on it while he 
slowly pulled off his water-logged boots. Levine had 
taken possession of the rocking-chair, and with his feet 
propped up on a soap box, was smoking a long, curved 
pipe. 

“They’ve got both doors bolted,” said Stephen. 
“And it wouldn’t make much difference if they hadn’t. 
207 


REFUGEE ROCK 


We can’t possibly get Romaine out of there without 
their knowing it. ’ ’ 

“Our only chance is to get him when thoy take 
him out of the house,” said Rodney, “And it looks 
as if they wouldn’t do that till rooming.” 

“We’re three to three.” Tom shook his head* 
“And they’re armed. Can’t we get someone to help 
us?” 

“We might get Simmons and Dan,” Stephen sug- 
gested. 

Again Tom shook his head. “It’s too far back to the 
island. And I don’t like to leave him here. They 
might change their minds before morning. Someone 
ought to watch.” 

“There’s Silas Widdicome,” suggested Rodney. 

Tom nodded. “Yes, there’s Widdicome. Suppose 
you go and see if he can help us, Roddy. ’ ’ 

Ten minutes later Rodney stood in the main street 
of the village. He and the wind had the place all 
to themselves. Every house was dark, every inhabi- 
tant probably wrapped in slumber. It seemed a crime 
to rout out a man from bed on such a night and at 
such an hour. But Rodney went to Widdicome ’s store 
and threw good-sized pebbles against the window of 
Widdicome ’s room. 


208 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 


He had been throwing some time when the window 
opened. 4 4 Who’s that?” demanded the storekeeper 
angrily. 

4 4 One of Mr. Romaine ’s friends. I was in your store 
this afternoon.” 

Widdicome peered through the darkness and seemed 
to grasp the identity of his midnight caller. 4 4 What 
do you want V ’ he asked in a pleasanter tone. 

4 4 Let me in,” said Rodney. 

4 4 All right. Go round to the store door.” 

In a few minutes the front door opened and Rodney 
was facing the old man, clad now in a dressing-gown. 
Inside the store he explained as briefly as he could 
what had happened to Pierre Romaine. 4 4 Those three 
men have got him, and we need your help,” he con- 
cluded. 

Widdicome’s face, in the light of the lamp, expressed 
utter bewilderment. 4 4 And you want me to go down 
to the harbor with you now, and help take him away 
from those brigands?” 

Rodney nodded. 4 4 We want you to come to that 
house. And we want you to bring some others with 
you. ’ ’ 

The old storekeeper gasped. 4 4 But I don’t know 
nothing about it. I don’t know what Mr. Romaine ’s 
209 


REFUGEE ROCK 


been doing. For all I know, perhaps he ought to be 
locked up. ’ ’ 

“You offered to give us some furs, you remember,’ ’ 
said Rodney. “Some of those furs we saw up in 
your room.” 

“Why, yes, so I did.” Widdicome peered at the 
boy, seeking his meaning. 

“We don’t want the furs, but we do want your help. 
How about striking a bargain?” 

The storekeeper understood. “Well, if you put it 
that way — the furs against my help. Tell you what. 
We’ll go get Jim Moody, the constable.” 

Rodney sat down in the store while Widdicome went 
upstairs to put on his clothes. They were not to get 
out of the house without some further difficulty, how- 
ever, for as Widdicome came down the stairs again, 
dressed in an ulster and boots, the voice of his wife 
on an upper floor announced that she was awake and 
wanted to know what in goodness he was doing walk- 
ing about the house at that time of night. 

“It’s all right, Martha; it’s all right. Just a little 
business I’ve got to attend to.” 

“Then it ain’t burglars this time, Silas?” came 
Mrs. Widdicome ’s voice in a sarcastic tone. And 
immediately she flapped down the stairs in her felt 
210 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 


slippers and appeared in the store in her wadded 
dressing-gown. 

“I thought it was one of those fellows,’ ’ she said, 
looking indignantly at Rodney. ‘ ‘What do you mean 
by taking my man out of his house on a night like 
this?” 

4 ‘We’re going to get Jim Moody, Martha,” said 
Widdicome soothingly. “This lad’s friend, Mr. Ro- 
maine, is in trouble.” 

“Well, what have you got to do with it, Silas? 
You’re not a constable nor a doctor.” 

“I mean to see justice done,” said the storekeeper 
grandly. “They’ve come to me to help them, and I 
wouldn’t turn anyone away from my door.” 

“What sort of trouble is the man in? Has it got 
something to do with what went on here that night?” 

“We’re wasting time, Martha. It’s a long story, 
and I can’t stop to tell it all to you now. You lock 
the door after me and go back to bed like a sensible 
woman. ’ ’ 

“I wish there were some sensible men around here.” 
Mrs. Widdicome shook her head and again looked in- 
dignantly at Rodney. “I’m going to find out the truth 
about all these goings-on, and right soon too. You’ve 
got to explain it all to me before breakfast, Silas.” 

211 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“All right, all right. Just you wait till breakfast.” 
The storekeeper gave Rodney a slight shove toward 
the door. “Lock the door, Martha, and don’t you 
get to worrying.” 

They came out into the road and went to the house 
of Jim Moody. This was a small cottage on the out- 
skirts of the town. Widdicome beat with his fist on 
the front door, and presently a window directly above 
was opened and a man thrust out his head. 

“It’s Silas Widdicome, Jim. We’ve got a job that 
calls for a constable. Three men from that schooner 
down in the harbor have kidnapped a fellow who lives 
over on one of the islands, and they’re keeping him 
prisoner in the old Libby house.” 

The constable gave an incredulous exclamation. 
“What do you want me to do? Beat the three of ’em 
over the head?” 

“Well, you’re a constable, Jim.” 

The man at the window snorted and pulled in his 
head. Shortly afterwards he admitted them into his 
house. 

Again Rodney explained the situation. Moody, a 
tall, grizzled man, looked as if he were listening to the 
wildest of sea-yarns. “Well, if they’ve got him down 
at the Libby house I guess he’s all right now,” he 
212 


THE HOUSE BY THE HARBOR 


declared at length. “ A night like this ain’t any kind 
of a time to go get mixed up in a seraph ’ 

4 4 But they may take him aboard the schooner any 
time,” protested Rodney. “ Besides, they’re holding 
him a prisoner ; and they haven ’t any right to do that. ’ ’ 
“I can’t go down with my gun and clean ’em out, 
can I ! ” retorted the constable. ‘ 1 That schooner won ’t 
get out of here in this storm. Just you wait till morn- 
ing, and then I’ll come down and bring some men with 
me. Don’t you worry. We’ll have the law on those 
fellows in the morning.” 

4 ‘ Seems to me, Jim,” said Widdicome, “that it’s 
your place as constable to come along with us and see 
they don’t do him no harm before morning.” 

“I guess I know my place — and my duty too — as 
well as anyone, Silas. You go along with this young 
fellow, and keep your eye on the house. I’ll be down 
as soon as it’s dawn.” The constable had a firm jaw, 
and the look of it at that moment showed positively 
that he would not leave his house until he was ready. 

Perforce they had to put up with that ultimatum. 
Out in the road again, Widdicome said, “Jim ain’t as 
spry as he ought to be. But we don ’t have many law- 
breakers in Swannock’s Neck. I can’t recollect we 
ever caught a thief; and as for kidnappers — You’re 
213 


REFUGEE ROCK 


sure, are you, that this Mr. Romaine hasn’t done some- 
thing he oughtn’t to have done?” 

“Mr. Widdicome,” said Rodney, “you know what 
those men from the schooner are like. You’ve had 
your own experience with them. Didn’t they break 
into your house?” 

“That’s so, that’s so,” agreed the storekeeper hast- 
ily. “Well, I’ll stand by him and you. It must be 
pretty nigh to morning now. We’ll go down to the 
Libby place and keep watch till Jim comes along.” 

At the house by the waterfront they found Tom still 
on the porch, sitting on the rail, his back against a 
post. Stephen was sleeping in a small barn behind 
the house. Through the window they could see that 
Romaine was lying on the floor of the room, appar- 
ently asleep. Disdoff and Veedol also were slumber- 
ing. Levine sat in the rocking chair close to the table, 
reading from a small book by the light of the candle. 

Rodney told Tom the result of his mission. They 
decided to take turns standing watch, and Rodney and 
Widdicome relieved Tom, while the latter went out 
to the barn to get forty winks. 


214 


XVI 


THE THREE BEARS 

M ORNING had come — a morning still cold and 
windy, with spatterings of rain — before there 
was activity inside the house by the harbor. Then 
Stephen, who was doing sentry duty at the time, saw 
Disdoff unbolt and push open the front door, letting 
in a blast of cold air that quickly blew out the gut- 
tering candle. Ivan Levine, who had fallen asleep 
in the rocking-chair, moved his great bulk of body, 
yawned, opened his eyes, blinked, thrust out his long 
arms, and finally stood up. Veedol hopped up and 
ran his fingers through his long hair, which gave him 
a wild, uncouth appearance. Then Romaine stirred, 
stretched, and sat up, looking about him perplexedly, 
as if in doubt as to what he was doing there. 

Immediately Veedol began to talk to the prisoner, 
shaking his finger at him and apparently uttering 
threats. Romaine smiled, shrugged his shoulders, 
shook his head. He got to his feet and stamped up 
and down, exercising the muscles that were numb with 
sleeping on the board floor. And both Disdoff and 
215 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Levine added their threats and their arguments to 
those of Veedol, making a half-circle in front of Ro- 
maine, and gesticulating freely and with anger. 

While this was going on Tom, Rodney and Silas 
Widdicome came out from the barn and joined Stephen. 
They held a hurried, whispered conference. 

“Mr. Romaine won’t do what they want,” said 
Stephen. “What are the three bears going to do 
next f ’ ’ 

‘ 4 Take him aboard the schooner, ’ ’ ventured Rodney. 
“They won’t dare keep him here.” 

“And that’ll be our chance,” declared Tom. 

“I wish Jim Moody would come,” muttered Widdi- 
come, who kept casting anxious glances over his shoul- 
der in the direction of the village. 

“Once aboard the schooner, and they’ve got him,” 
said Tom. “We’ve got to do something on the way 
there.” 

“I shouldn’t wonder if they were about ready to 
leave,” said Rodney. 

There was too much risk of being seen if they looked 
into the house now. They left the porch and stood 
in the path at the side. 

“Come along,” ordered Tom. “We’ve got to think 
and act quick.” 


216 


THE THREE BEARS 


A few minutes later the four were hiding at the 
corner of a shed that was about half-way between the 
house and the schooner. 

Along the waterfront came Yeedol, his fat face look- 
ing very chilly in the raw air. 

“ I’m going to handle him,” whispered Tom. “I’ll 
keep him away from the others / ’ 

Through the huddle of little sheds Tom ran quickly 
and came out opposite Veedol as the latter reached 
the side of his ship. 

‘ ‘ Hello, ’ ’ said Tom. * ‘ What have you done with Mr. 
Romaine ! ’ ’ 

Yeedol glared, grinned, shook his head. 

“Oh yes, we know that you’ve got him,” said Tom. 

Yeedol stepped back in the direction of the house 
from which he had come. 

Tom placed himself in the way. He was taller than 
Yeedol, and his face was very determined. “I don’t 
care who you are, or what you have against Mr. Ro- 
maine, you’re breaking the laws of this country. We 
call it kidnapping here, and kidnappers are criminals.” 

Yeedol slipped a revolver out of his coat pocket. 

“None of that!” said Tom sharply. “Do you think 
you can hold people up in that way over here? Well, 
I guess not ! If you want to fight, I ’m ready for you. ’ ’ 
217 


REFUGEE ROCK 


The fat man eyed the tall, slender boy. “You’re a 
rare young one,” he snarled. 

“I’m all ready for you.” Tom meant it; his eyes 
were those of a fighter. “Come on now. What have 
you got to say?” 

Veedol slid the revolver back in his pocket. 

“That’s right,” Tom said, nodding. “You’ve got 
to play fair over here. Now what are you men up 
to?” 

At that moment there was a shout from the direc- 
tion of the house. Yeedol sprang forward. Quicker 
than he, however, Tom threw his arms about his enemy 
and threw him to the ground. 

In the meantime the three from their ambush had 
seen Levine and Disdoff, with Romaine between them, 
come out from the house and draw near along the 
road. The watchers crept back of the shed and waited 
until the men, with their prisoner, had passed them 
by a few steps. Then Rodney and Stephen ran out, 
and each jumped at the back of his man. Disdoff 
whirled round, revolver in hand. Stephen clutched 
the revolver, wrenched it loose. His sudden twist sent 
the pistol whirling away into the water. Rodney was 
butting his head into Levine’s ribs, and the big man 
was trying to pull the boy’s arms away. 

218 


THE THREE BEARS 


Widdicome was helping Stephen with Disdoff. Ro- 
maine called to Rodney. 

“I’ve got his knife now, Roddy! He hasn’t got a 
pistol. Ease np on him a bit.” Romaine, Levine’s 
sheath-knife in his hand, eyed the big man narrowly. 
6 6 No tricks now! No tricks! Get away there!” 

Disdoff had edged close to the bank along the water. 
Stephen and Widdicome together were evidently more 
than he cared to tackle. 

“And now,” said Romaine, still looking at Levine, 
“shall we call this business quits, and each of us go 
our own way! I think you can make it clear to your 
friends at home that you did your very best to carry 
out their plans, but circumstances were too much for 
you.” He waved his hand at the two young fellows 
and Widdicome. “By circumstances I mean these 
good friends of mine.” 

“You are pleased to joke,” said Levine. His tone 
was quiet, but there was a gleam in his deep eyes 
that spoke of intense anger. 

“No, I’m not joking,” Romaine answered. “But 
I tell you for your own information, and to save you 
further trouble, that you will never get anything from 
me. I told you that last night, when I was your 
prisoner; and I tell you it now, when the tables are 
219 


REFUGEE ROCK 


turned. Go away, you three, and take up some honest 
work.” 

Romaine ’s words were interrupted by the appear- 
ance of strangers, hurrying along the road from the 
old Libby house. First came Jim Moody, and after 
him half-a-dozen of the male inhabitants of Swan- 
nock’s Neck. “ Hello, Silas!” called Moody. “Got 
those fellows, did you!” 

“Two of ’em,” answered Widdicome, and indicated 
Levine and Disdoff. 

The constable confronted the two with a stem and 
angry eye. “I hear you’ve been breaking the law, 
kidnapping a gentleman from his home out on the 
island. What have you got to say for yourselves?” 

Levine shrugged his shoulders. 

4 ‘ Come, come, ’ ’ said Moody. 4 4 Say something, can ’t 
you?” 

As neither Levine nor Disdoff answered, the con- 
stable turned to Romaine. “You’re the man they kid- 
napped; what have you got to say? Shall we take ’em 
in charge on your complaint ? ’ ’ 

Romaine hesitated. “No,” he said, “I won’t make 
any complaint. This affair concerns only those men 
and myself. It ’s true they ’re rascals ; but I don ’t want 
them put in jail. That wouldn’t do me any good.” 

220 


THE THREE BEARS 


“It would teach them a lesson/ ’ growled Widdi- 
come. 

“I’m not so sure of that,” Romaine responded. 
“What I want is for them to go back where they came 
from and attend to their own business.” 

“Well, I’m sure that sounds very sensible,” said 
the constable. “You fellows,” he continued, address- 
ing Levine, “have stayed in this here town long enough. 
We’ll let you go if you’ll clear out and keep away from 
here.” 

The other inhabitants nodded and muttered their 
approval. 

4 4 But you got to go quick ! ’ ’ said the constable. 4 4 On 
your way now! Right about, march!” 

He stepped forward, followed by his neighbors, a 
determined and weather-beaten looking crowd. 

4 4 On your way!” said Stephen, making a motion 
toward Disdoff. 

The two prisoners turned and walked along the road. 
When they reached the ship there was Veedol, under 
surveillance of Tom and a couple of boys from the 
village. 

The three climbed over to their own vessel. Along 
the waterfront were ranged the constable and his fel- 
low-citizens. 4 4 Now mind you, don’t you come back to 
221 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Swannock ’s Neck!” cried Moody. “If you do I’ll put 
you in jail as suspicious characters. ’ ’ 

Levine faced the crowd. “The odds are against 
us,” said he. Then he smiled and pointed his finger at 
Pierre Romaine. “But as that man has said, there 
is an affair that concerns him and us.” With a bob 
of his head he swung about and disappeared down the 
companionway. 

“You sail out of this harbor just as soon as you 
can!” the constable bellowed after Levine’s retreating 
figure. The other two law-breakers had also vanished 
below-decks, and there being no one visible on the 
schooner, the constable thought it safe for him to add 
to his neighbors: “Course I don’t expect them to 
take her out in a nor’easter; but just as quick as the 
wind shifts a bit they’ve got to move along. Yes, 
by golly, they have ! ’ ’ 

Thereupon, slipping off his dignified manner, the 
deep tone of voice and frowning face that he con- 
sidered appropriate to an officer of the law in the 
execution of his duty, he came up to Romaine. ‘ 6 1 say, 
old man, what ’s it all about ? Were they trying to hold 
you up for some money?” 

Romaine laughed. “Mr. Governor, or Mayor, or 
whatever high officer you may be, you have come very 
222 


THE THREE BEARS 


near to hitting the mark. Those enemies of mine are 
needy fellows, and want me to hand over something to 
them. ’ ’ 

“How much do they want?” inquired Moody. 

“It can’t be reckoned in money, Your Excellency,” 
said Romaine, smiling. 

“It can’t? What do you mean? What do they 
want you to hand over to them?” 

Romaine shrugged his shoulders. “Only some old 
things. Some things that both they and I value for 
association’s sake.” And to avoid any more questions 
he turned to Widdicome and boldly slapped him on 
the shoulder. “You did me a good turn this morn- 
ing. You’re a tine fellow, Mr. Storekeeper.” 

“I’ve got a friendly feeling for a man who’s in 
trouble, ’ ’ said Widdicome. ‘ 1 1 wanted to square things 
with you and these boys. ’ ’ 

Romaine, the three boys, and Widdicome were now 
moving on along the quay. The constable and the 
villagers, evidently of the opinion that they could ex- 
pect to learn nothing more of this mysterious per- 
formance, began to scatter in the direction of their 
homes. 

The wind was less violent now, though the harbor 
was filled with whitecaps. When they reached the 
223 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Penguin Widdicome said, “If my wife asks any of you 
any questions about these things that have been going 
on, you might tell her those foreigners are after some 
things that belong to Mr. Romaine. She couldn’t 
seem to understand what I was doing with those furs ; 
but if she thinks it’s Mr. Romaine ’s property that’s 
making all the trouble — You understand what I 
mean!” 

“I guess everyone knows by now that I’m at the 
root of all this rumpus,” said Romaine, as he stepped 
into the boat. 

Refugee Rock still stood in the grip of the storm. 
It was a real welcome that Simmons, Dan and Caesar 
gave their returning master. In short order there was 
breakfast ready, a breakfast hearty and warm for 
the famished and tired adventurers. Afterwards 
fresh logs were thrown on the tire and the events of 
the night before told over in detail. 

“Will Levine take the schooner away!” asked 
Stephen. 

No one could answer that question. But Romaine, 
standing with his back to the hearth and his feet wide 
apart, smiled at his three friends. “Last night I of- 
fered my enemies a fair proposition. I told them that 
if they would come here I would fight them, one by 
224 


THE THREE BEARS 


one, for the prize they are after. I told them I had 
duelling-swords to spare. There are a couple of them 
in those boxes over there in the corner. That’s the 
way that gentlemen settle their differences. And 
Nicholas Veedol retorted that there are no such things 
as gentlemen any more.” 

Romaine looked from one to the other, and his black 
eyes twinkled. 4 ‘But there is such a thing as a gen- 
tleman, my friends ; and there always will be. Those 
three bears had me in their power, and yet I think 
they knew they couldn’t harm me.” 

There was no arrogance in Bomaine’s tone, it was 
simply a statement of fact. 

He turned and took his sheathed rapier down from 
the mantel. 4 4 There, ’ ’ he said. 4 4 My godfather gave 
me this and told me to treasure it. What is it?” He 
drew the blade from the scabbard. 44 A pretty shin- 
ing toy? A splinter of the best Toledo steel? No. 
It is an emblem.” Again he gazed at his young 
friends, shook his head a trifle, and smiled whimsically. 
4 4 Your country is so young,” he said, 4 4 and mine is so 
old. How can I hope to make you understand?” 

4 4 Your country? You mean Russia?” asked Rod- 
ney. 

4 4 Yes, I mean Russia. And my family is older even 

225 


REFUGEE ROCK 


than ray country. There were some of them living on 
the shores of the Black Sea when Peter the Great 
was marking out the boundaries of his new city in 
the north; there were some of them dwelling in their 
own castles when Rome was riding to its fall. And 
always they wore a sword at their side. And always 
that sword stood for something more than shining 
metal. It stood for their honor, for their power to 
keep what belonged to them.” 

“I understand,’ ’ said Tom. 

Romaine’s eyes still smiled, though his face was seri- 
ous. “And here I am, on a rock in the sea, thousands 
and thousands of miles from those Black Sea castles, 
and these men come to take from me what has belonged 
to my family for centuries ; these men who have neither 
swords nor traditions, nothing but greed and the de- 
sire to take, and to give nothing in return. ” He stared 
at his friends a minute. “A curious story, isn’t it, 
boys? A bit of old Europe fetched over to young 
America. ’ ’ 

There was a knock at the outer door. Stephen, 
springing up, answered it, and let in Benjamin Crad- 
dock. The fisherman was very much excited. 

“Do you know what’s going on around here — un- 
der your very noses?” he demanded. 

226 


THE THREE BEARS 


He waited an instant for effect, and then dropped a 
word like a bomb: ‘ 4 Smuggling ! ’ ’ 

“No?” exclaimed Romaine. “You don’t really 
think so?” 

“I’m certain of it,” said Craddock. “That hid- 
ing-place in the gulley ; that dynamite sign. And that 
explosion the other night was to scare me off. There 
isn ’t a doubt about it. ’ ’ 

“And who are the smugglers?” asked Rodney. 

“Who but those men in the smack? They’ve been 
hiding their goods here. I’ve got it on them now.” 

“Well, I congratulate you, Mr. Craddock,” said Ro- 
maine. “I never did take much fancy to that crew.” 

Craddock walked up to the hearth, his manner now 
more mysterious than ever. “And I came to tell you 
something else, ’ ’ he said in a whisper. 4 ‘ There ’s. more 
than that crew concerned in this. I’ve kept my eyes 
open. And I’ve seen someone else hiding things 
away.” 

Romaine looked his surprise. “Dear me, Mr. Crad- 
dock; the plot thickens. And who else did you see?” 

Craddock glanced over his shoulder, then back at 
the young man. “I’ve seen your servant; yes, I’ve 
seen that man Simmons doing things he didn’t want 
known about.” 


227 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“ Simmons ?” 

“None other than he. I came to warn you of him.” 

“Simmons!” Romaine repeated amazedly. “Well, 
Mr. Craddock, I shall certainly investigate what Sim- 
mons has been doing. I was away over night.” 

“Don’t think that I suspect you,” said the fisher- 
man. “I only came to warn you. I mean to do my 
duty, that’s all.” 

“And are you an officer of the law too?” asked Ro- 
maine. 

Craddock shook his head. “Not exactly. But 
there’s a reward offered. And I mean to get that 
reward, with what I know.” 

The fisherman withdrew. The three mates looked 
at their host. And suddenly Romaine burst into laugh- 
ter and slapped his thigh in delight. “Simmons a 
smuggler! Good old Simmons a smuggler!” The 
idea amused him greatly. 

But presently he stopped laughing. “However, 
Craddock might make trouble. I wonder what Sim- 
mons can have been hiding that he didn’t want people 
to see?” 


228 


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SECRET SERVICE 

T HE schooner William Howitt left Swannock’s 
Neck that night. The wind had shifted suffi- 
ciently for her to beat her way out through the islands, 
but what course she had taken or where her next port 
of call was to be nobody knew. She had been at her 
dock at nightfall, and was not there the next morn- 
ing. That was all the information the three boys 
could gather when they questioned the men they met 
along the waterfront. 

Jim Moody asserted that they had seen the last of 
that evil craft. “Pm not boasting, ,, he said to Tom. 
“Pm not the sort of fellow that talks big when he 
hasn’t got a right to. But if you ask me I’ll say 
that when those men on the schooner heard me yester- 
day and saw how determined I was, they made up 
their minds it was time for them to quit. And so it 
was. When I say a thing I mean it. If they’d put 
their feet in this town again I’d have shown them 
something. This mayn’t be a very big place, but as 
229 


REFUGEE ROCK 


long as I’m constable here I won’t have any monkey 
business.” 

Tom nodded approval. “I’m glad they got out,” 
he said. 

“Say, what sort of man is this Mr. Romaine?” in- 
quired Moody. “There’s enough gossip about him 
in this town to swamp a good-sized ship. What’s his 
trouble ? ’ ’ 

“He hasn’t any trouble,” Tom answered. “It’s 
his enemies who have the trouble. There’s nothing 
crooked about him.” 

“Well, mebbe not,” said Moody, though his tone was 
somewhat doubtful as he turned away. 

Meantime Stephen and Rodney went up to Widdi- 
come’s store to get some vegetables that Simmons 
wanted. The owner was not about, but his wife was, 
and when she had waited on them she eyed them 
sharply, and said, “Wait a minute, young men. 
Seems to me it’s about time I knew what was going 
on. What have you and my husband got between 
you? Are you making a fool of him?” 

“Indeed we’re not,” said Stephen. 

“Well, Silas and I have been married a good many 
years, and I’ve never known him to act so mysterious 
as he’s been doing the last few days. There’s some- 
230 


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thing on his mind.” She looked at Rodney. “Why 
did yon come here for him the other night? What had 
he got to do with you and your friend out on the 
island ? ’ ’ 

“I came to him because I knew him,” said Rodney. 
“He’d told us he’d help us in any way he could.” 

“But why should he say that unless he thought 
you’d be needing some help?” Mrs. Widdicome’s 
eyes, through her spectacles, could be exceedingly 
keen. 

Rodney and Stephen each shook his head, not know- 
ing what to say. 

“Well, I can tell you something. It all goes back 
to that box of furs. Yes, it all goes back to that. 
Do you want to know what I think?” She went on, 
without waiting for an answer. “I think Mr. Widdi- 
come’s been led into some trap. I think somebody’s 
using him to pull their chestnuts out of the fire.” 

“Oh, I don’t think that,” said Stephen. 

“Well, I do,” said Mrs. Widdicome very positively. 
“He never sold furs before, and I never heard of 
Abe Pringle having any furs to sell neither. Some- 
body’s brought him those furs; somebody who didn’t 
have any right to bring them.” 

She stopped a moment, eyeing the two boys as if 
231 


REFUGEE ROCK 


to read their thoughts. “I think those furs were 
smuggled into this country,” she said impressively. 

“You do?” said Rodney. His tone expressed so 
much surprise that Stephen had hard work not to 
chuckle. 

“And those that smuggled them want Silas to be a 
receiver of stolen goods. He’s just foolish enough 
to be tempted some way like that. ’ ’ 

“Perhaps he doesn’t really mean to do wrong,” 
said Rodney sympathetically. 

“Oh, he’s not so bad as those that have tempted 
him,” Mrs. Widdicome agreed. “Now who was it 
did it? That man out on the island?” 

“You don’t mean Mr. Romaine?” exclaimed 
Stephen. 

“Well now look here, young man. Those men from 
the schooner were after Silas a few nights ago and 
they were after this Mr. Romaine night before last. 
That links Silas and him up together, don’t it? Silas 
said he’d help your friend, when he didn’t have no 
cause to, so far as I can see. And I’ve heard rumors 
of a hiding-place over on the island. The furs came 
from out there, where Mr. Romaine lives.” 

Stephen and Rodney looked at each other. This was 
a new and strange turn of events. 

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“Surprises you, does it?” said Mrs. Widdicome. 
“Well, here’s something more. Two of you were up 
in Silas’s room that night. You didn’t come to buy 
anything from him, did you ? ’ ’ 

Their faces, blank of an answer, were a sufficient 
reply. 

“Mightn’t it have been you who fetched that box 
over here in your boat? That sounds likely, don’t it? 
I’m not saying you knew you were breaking the law; 
but the man who sent you knew it.” 

Rodney and Stephen knew how baseless were Mrs. 
Widdicome ’s suspicions, and yet each could see that 
she thoroughly believed the case she had made out 
against them. 

“I suppose it might have been us, Mrs. Widdecome,” 
said Rodney. “But as a matter of fact, it wasn’t.” 

“What brought you out to this house then?” 

Rodney shook his head. He wasn’t going to admit 
what he knew about Silas Widdicome until he had to ; 
it wasn’t playing the game to return the storekeeper’s 
help in any such way. 

“You won’t tell me the truth. Well now, I’ve given 
you every chance to speak up right and proper. You 
can’t keep me blindfolded just because I’m a woman. 
If Silas has done what he oughtn’t I’m mighty sorry 
233 


REFUGEE ROCK 


for it ; but if he gets into trouble all on account of this, 
I’m going to see that the folks who led him on bear 
their share of it. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Widdicome gave a positive bob of the head and 
walked away toward the desk. The interview was 
over ; Stephen and Rodney left the store. 

Rain was pelting again ; the sky was gray and lower- 
ing. With the sting of wet in their faces the boys 
walked toward the shore. 

‘ 4 Yesterday Craddock accused Simmons of being a 
smuggler ; now Mrs. Widdicome accuses us of the same 
thing,’ ’ said Stephen. “ Suppose someone tries to 
arrest Simmons or us; what then, Roddy?” 

“We ’ll have to tell what we know then, I suppose.” 

“And that’ll be enough to send Widdicome to jail. 
Poor old fellow. I’ve got a liking for him.” 

“So have I.” 

Tom was keeping dry in the Penguin 7 s cabin when 
his two mates came aboard. They were about to cast 
off when there was a shout from the bank. Widdi- 
come, in an old rubber coat from which the rain was 
fairly popping like hailstones, stood above them. 

“I want to go out to the island!” he shouted. 

‘ ‘ Could you take me along ? ’ ’ 

“Sure thing,” answered Tom. “Jump aboard.” 

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Widdicome plopped down on the seat beside the skip- 
per. 4 ‘Lucky I found you. ’T isn’t much weather to 
row out to that place. ’ 9 

44 You’d get there about midnight,” Tom laughed. 

“A snug little craft this.” For a few minutes the 
storekeeper admired the Penguin and her smooth- 
running engine, and then shook his head gloomily. 
4 4 Lands sakes, but I’ve run into a heap of trouble,” 
he muttered. 

“The sun’ll be out to-morrow — maybe,” said Tom 
cheerfully. 

“ ’Tain’t a matter of fog or sun. I guess it’s all 
along o’ my own foolishness. I never had a secret 
from Martha before, and I’m never going to have one 
again. ” 

Rodney pricked up his ears. “Steve and I have 
been having a talk with Mrs. Widdicome,.” he said. 

“Yes?” said the storekeeper. “Was she question- 
ing you? She’s a great hand at questions.” 

4 4 She was telling us things. She ’s been doing sort of 
secret service work on her own account.” 

4 4 Secret service? How’s that?” 

4 'She thinks we brought that box of furs over 
from Mr. Romaine’s island and put them in your 


room. 


235 


REFUGEE ROCK 


Widdicome stared in amazement. 4 ‘By golly !” he 
exclaimed. ‘ ‘ Did Martha tell you that ? ’ * 

“Yes,” Stephen broke in. “And what’s more, she 
thinks we’re all a set of smugglers.” 

‘ i Smugglers ! ’ ’ The word was almost a groan. 

Stephen nodded. “Oh, she’s got it all worked out to 
her own satisfaction. And to tell you the truth, I must 
say that there have been a lot of queer things going 
on — queer, that is, unless you knew what they really 
meant.” 

Widdicome stared at the rain-streaked sea. He 
looked so utterly disconsolate that Rodney took pity on 
him. “I don’t think that she’ll tell anybody what she 
suspects. I think she spoke to us as a sort of warn- 
ing.” 

“It’s a warning all right,” said the old man. His 
lingers twisted his wet beard nervously. “I wouldn’t 
have had this happen for a mint o’ money. I ought to 
have asked Martha’s advice in the beginning.” He 
paused a minute, shaking his head at the white crests 
of the waves. “And she’d have told me to keep 
clear of it.” 

Slap went the waves over the Penguin's bow. Tom, 
peering through the dusk, was too busy to pay atten- 
tion to anything but keeping on his course. Widdi- 
236 


SECRET SERVICE 


come was brooding over his troubles, and Rodney and 
Stephen were watching him intently. 

“ Maybe it ain’t too late,” said the storekeeper pres- 
ently. ‘ ‘ That ’s what I ’m going out to the island to see. 
I told Martha I was going out there, and if it was too 
rough maybe I’d stay all night, if Mr. Romaine could 
give me a bed. I can see now that would only have 
made her more suspicious. Seems as if everything I 
did now only got me in worse. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, cheer up, ’ ’ said Stephen. ‘ 4 We ’ll stand by you. 
Roddy here is a great hand at helping people out of a 
fix. He ’s got me out of a lot. ” 

“Is that so? Well, I’m right glad to hear it.” 
Widdicome looked at the younger sailor approvingly. 

“But before I can help you much,” said Rodney, 
“I’ve got to know all the facts.” 

“Yes, that’s so — that’s so,” agreed Widdicome. 
He did not unbosom himself, however, but sat in 
thoughtful silence until Tom brought the Penguin up 
to Refugee Rock. 

The cottage, with its tire on the hearth, its lighted 
lamps, its comfortable chairs, was like another world 
from the storm-swept region outside. Romaine wel- 
comed Silas Widdicome warmly, helped him off with 
his dripping rubber coat, and insisted on his taking off 
237 


REFUGEE ROCK 


his boots and drying his stockinged feet at the blazing 
logs. Widdicome began to thaw, looked less dis- 
turbed, and as he stretched out in an easy chair ac- 
tually smiled at his host. “You’ll be glad to hear, Mr. 
Romaine, ,, said he, “that the schooner’s left. 
“ You’re out of hot water anyhow.” 

“Left, has she!” said Romaine. “I wonder now,” 
he added thoughtfully. But almost instantly he smiled 
and rubbed his hands gleefully. “Come; that’s good 
news! What else has happened over at the village?” 

“You’re suspected of being a smuggler,” said 
Stephen. 

Romaine jumped. “A smuggler? I? Upon my 
word ! What have I been smuggling ? ’ ’ 

“Oh, we’re suspected too,” added Stephen. “The 
whole crowd have been smuggling furs from Refugee 
Rock to the mainland.” 

“Furs!” Involuntarily Romaine glanced at Widdi- 
come. 

The storekeeper pulled himself up in his chair. 
“It’s my Martha that’s doing the suspecting, Mr. Ro- 
maine. And I’ve got to admit that there’s some 
ground for her suspicions. It’s my belief that some- 
one’s come very near to breaking the law.” 

“You sound like Benjamin Craddock,” said Ro- 
238 


SECRET SERVICE 


maine. “He told us yesterday that he thought my 
man Simmons was doing something wrong/ ’ 

“Ben Craddock said that?” Widdicome made a 
grimace. “So that’s what he was up to, is it? I 
said he was a blooming busybody. ’ ’ 

“Well, do you suspect Simmons — or me?” Romaine 
inquired. 

The storekeeper looked rather uncomfortable. He 
studied the tips of his stockinged feet for several min- 
utes in silence. “Of course I don’t suspect you — or 
him either, so far as I know, ’ ’ he said presently. 4 ‘ But 
I believe that box of furs that was in my house came 
from this here island.” 

The boys, knowing as they did how the box had 
come into Widdicome ’s possession, watched with 
amusement his pretence of innocence. 

“You think they grew here perhaps?” suggested Ro- 
maine. “But the only animal I know of on this island 
is my dog Caesar, and he isn’t exactly a fur-bearing 
creature.” 

Widdicome paid no attention to this joke. “I think 
somebody’s got a storehouse here. I think somebody’s 
been hiding things on this island.” 

“Oh, you agree with Craddock then? That’s what 
he said about Simmons.” 


239 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“No, I don’t agree with Craddock,” Widdicome said 
impatiently. “Haven’t you seen a boat about here? 
Or any strangers down on the beach?” 

“You mean the men from the William Howitt — those 
three?” Romaine suggested politely. 

“No, no. Haven’t you laid eyes on anyone 
else?” 

Romaine pretended to think. “Why yes, it seems to 
me I did hear something about a fishing-smack — and 
some of her crew landing on the beach.” 

“That’s it! Those are the men!” said Widdicome 
positively. 

“So you think they are the smugglers?” Romaine 
gave a little laugh. 1 1 Goodness gracious me ! E very- 
one ’s been suspected of being a smuggler now — except 
yourself, Mr. Widdicome.” 

The storekeeper paid no attention to this last re- 
mark. Instead he stood up abruptly. ‘ ‘ Have you got 
an old tablecloth — or an old sail — anything fairly big 
and white ? I ’ll pay you for it. ’ ’ 

“Why, I shouldn’t wonder,” said Romaine, consid- 
erably surprised. “Simmons!” he called. “Sim- 
mons!” 

When Simmons came in Romaine repeated Widdi- 
come ’s request, and after a little search Simmons pro- 
240 


SECRET SERVICE 


duced an old sheet that the storekeeper said would an- 
swer his purpose. 

Widdicome pulled on his boots and his rubber coat. 

“May I ask what you’re going to do? Is it a flag of 
truce?” inquired Romaine. 

“I’m going to fasten this to a tree out on the cliff,” 
was the answer. “I have my reasons for thinking that 
those men may see it and come ashore to find out 
what’s the matter.” 

“And what are you going to tell them?” 

“Why, what should I tell them but that I’m going to 
bring that box of furs out here and let them take it 
away ? And I ’m going to warn them that they ’d better 
take the rest of their stuff away and clear out right 
quick, or they’ll get themselves into trouble.” 

Romaine winked at the boys behind the storekeeper ’s 
back. “Well, perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. At 
least it ought to make Mrs. Widdicome feel easier in 
her mind.” 

“That’s what I want. That’s exactly what I want. 
I’m not going to have her disturbed another twenty- 
four hours.” 

“I guess you’ll want some help to fix your flag,” 
said Stephen. “I’ll go out to the cliff with you.” 

As it turned out all three boys and Romaine went 
241 


REFUGEE ROCK 


along. They assisted Widdicome to tie the white sheet 
securely to a lone pine that stood out boldly on the 
high bank above the ravine where they had found the 
dynamite sign. The flag blew out in the wind, easily 
to be seen by anyone who might look in the direction 
of Refugee Rock. 

Then they went back and had dinner. Romaine in- 
vited Widdicome to spend the night and the store- 
keeper gladly accepted. After dinner he went back to 
the lone pine and kept watch over the water to the 
east. But when he came in at ten o’clock and found 
the others sitting about the fire he shook his head. 
“Not a sign of them yet,” he stated. 

“Maybe there will be to-morrow,” said Stephen. 

“I hope so,” said Widdicome earnestly. “I want to 
clear up this business before that smart Ben Craddock 
stirs up a lot of trouble. He’s capable of anything 
when he gets going. I don’t want to have him spread- 
ing stories about me. And he’s capable of it. Oh, 
yes, sir, he’s capable even of doing that!” 


242 


v 


XVIII 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 

B Y next morning the northeast storm had blown 
itself out. So clear was the sky, so calm was the 
ocean, that it was hard to believe that they were the 
same that had been so filled with wind and rain on the 
three preceding days. When Pierre Romaine’s guests 
stood out on his porch before breakfast no view could 
have been more alluring. The pines and the junipers 
and the masses of low-growing bushes shone in the sun. 
The sea was a level sweep of rich dark blue. Over- 
head several gulls were soaring on brilliant white 
wings. 

‘ ‘ On such a day anything is possible, ’ 9 said Romaine. 
“I feel as if I could swim to the edge of the world and 
back again ! ’ ’ 

They all looked out to a tiny sail that seemed to be 
beckoning to them from the rim of the ocean. 

“That’s all very well,” said Silas Widdicome, who 
was not poetic-minded. “But I’ve got other work on 
hand than swimming to-day. ’ 9 

As soon as they had breakfasted they went down to 
243 


REFUGEE ROCK 


the beach on the eastern side of the Rock. The flag 
stood out from the lone pine in a steady southerly 
breeze. No boat, however, was to be seen in the neigh- 
borhood. They walked along to the northern point, 
and from there had a view of the Penguin gently rock- 
ing at her berth. 

Widdicome turned to Tom. “Want to do me a great 
favor V’ he asked. 

“Why, certainly,’ ’ Tom answered. 

“Will you run over to the village in your boat and 
get that box from my house ? I want to be rid of it. ’ ’ 

Tom nodded. “You’ll come along too?” 

“I want to stay here, in case those men see the flag 
and put in. I’ll give you a message to my wife.” 

Romaine tore a sheet of paper from a note book and 
gave it and a pencil to Widdicome. The latter scrib- 
bled a few lines to his wife. 

“I think she’ll be glad to have those things out of 
the house too,” he said, giving the note to Tom. “If 
the men come before you get back, I’ll manage to keep 
them here somehow.” 

The three boys set out in the Penguin , and over a 
smooth sea made a quick run to the mainland. They 
found Mrs. Widdicome quite ready to let them have the 
box. In fact, as she stood in the doorway as they were 
244 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 


leaving, she gave a great sigh of relief. ‘ 4 That is a 
load off my mind,” she said. “I’m glad you young 
fellows, and all the rest of the folks who ’ve been mixed 
up in this, are ready to do the right thing. Honesty is 
the best policy, first, last and all the time.” 

As they lugged the box down to the boat Stephen 
chuckled. “Well, lads, we know what it feels like to 
be smugglers anyhow. If anyone came along and 
asked what we ’ve got here, I ’d feel like beating it down 
to the dock as fast as I could run.” 

“It is funny, isn’t it?” said Rodney. “Perhaps if 
we hadn’t happened to get mixed up in all these doings 
Silas Widdicome might have landed in jail.” 

“He’s a rare bird,” said Tom. “He’s certainly 
made himself out to be the most innocent guy in the 
world. A smuggler— he? No, sir. Everybody else 
may be breaking the law; but not Silas Widdicome.” 

They reached the Penguin without being accosted, 
and set out for the island. When they arrived there 
Widdicome informed them that the men had not yet 
been seen. To save the long carry overland Tom ran 
his boat around to the beach where they had first come 
ashore. They placed the box on the sand not far from 
the mouth of the ravine. 

It was now nearly noon, and the ocean was vacant of 
245 


REFUGEE ROCK 


sails. Widdicome paced up and down the beach, while 
Romaine and the three shipmates went in swimming. 
When they were dressed again, Rodney said to Widdi- 
come, ‘ ‘ Suppose those men have left? They haven’t 
been seen for several days, you know.” 

“No, they’re somewhere about. I have reason to 
know that.” Widdicome looked wise. “But don’t 
you folks stay around here. You go up to your din- 
ner.” 

They returned to the cottage. “I guess he does 
know what he’s talking about,” said Rodney. “I 
shouldn’t wonder if he’d fixed up that sign with the 
crew of the smack some time ago. Perhaps he in- 
tended it to mean that he was ready to take more 
goods.” 

They had lunch, and while they were eating Romaine 
sent Dan down to the beach with sandwiches for Widdi- 
come. 

It was some time after lunch that Stephen, standing 
on a rock in front of the cottage, gave a yell. 
“There’s a sail!” he cried. “And I think — yes, I’m 
sure — that’s the very boat we’re looking for!” 

The others quickly joined him. They all agreed that 
it was the fishing-smack. Immediately they set out at 
a run down to the eastern beach. 

246 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 


When they got there a boat was pulling ashore from 
the smack. Widdicome stood just above the waves, 
beckoning to the rowers. The three boys and Romaine 
went up to him. “What did I tell you? What did I 
tell you?” Widdicome exclaimed. “They’re the men 
I want. ’ ’ 

The boat slowed up. Jim, who was sitting in the 
stern, called out, “Hello, Widdicome! What do you 
want?” 

“You come ashore and I’ll tell you,” was the an- 
swer. “ It ’s something very important . 9 9 

“Sure, we’ll come ashore,” said Jim. “We’re just 
aching for a chat with you and those three young 
friends of ours.” 

The boat grounded in the shallow water, Jim and 
Bill, young Christopher Wilkins, the fellow who had 
been friendly to Rodney on the smack, and three others 
splashed over the side, and grasping the gunwale, 
quickly had the boat on the beach. 

“And now what do you want, mate?” said Jim, 
nodding and playfully raising his hand in salute to the 
storekeeper. “Did you get all the people who live on 
the island out here so’s they could listen to you make 
a Fourth o’ July speech?” 

Widdicome shook his head. “Mr. Romaine and 
247 


REFUGEE ROCK 


these three young fellows are friends of mine, ’ ’ he an- 
swered. “I’ve got no secrets from them.” 

“Well, I told you they were friends of mine too,” 
said Jim. He nodded and grinned at the boys. 
“Seems as if everybody likes you.” 

“There’s been trouble over in the village,” Widdi- 
come stated abruptly. “There’s talk as how some 
people are trying to smuggle goods in from Can- 
ada.” 

“Bless me! You don’t say so!” said Jim. He 
shook a forefinger at Widdicome. “They aren’t talk- 
ing that way about you, are they!” 

Widdicome wheeled about and took a few steps to the 
box on the beach. ‘ ‘ This box of furs came into my pos- 
session. I can’t do anything with them, and I want 
you to take them away. ’ ’ 

Jim and his mates stared. “Wishing them on us, 
are you?” returned the leader. “What’s the matter 
with them? Don’t folks want to buy good furs around 
here?” He looked at Romaine. “How about you? 
Wouldn’t you like some furs?” 

“Not those,” said Romaine. 

“Folks say this box was stowed away with a lot of 
others somewhere on this island,” Widdicome con- 
tinued. “Do you want my advice?” 

248 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 


“Well, we’ll listen to it anyhow,” answered the 
sailor. 

“Take the box away. You’ll be sailing back to Can- 
ada some time soon. I give you leave to do as you like 
"with it.” 

“You give us leave? Huh, that’s very kind of 
you!” 

“If you don’t want to take it, let it alone,” said 
Widdicome. “I wash my hands of it.” 

“Well, you’re a fine fellow, I must say! What’s 
come over you all of a sudden? Last time I saw you 
you talked different.” 

Widdicome held up his hand. “We won’t go into 
that,” he returned. “I’m an honest storekeeper, and 
I don’t want to have anything to do with suspected 
goods.” 

“Listen to him, boys,” said Jim, turning to his 
mates. “What does this toploftical feller think we 
are?” 

“He thinks we’re a pretty rum crowd,” spoke up 
Bill. “Howsomever, there’s no good in trying to 
drive a stubborn mule, Jim.” 

“I guess you’re right.” Bill looked at Widdicome 
again. “Have you been telling your friends here that 
we ’re a pack of crooks ? ’ ’ 


249 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“ I’ve told them nothing about you.” 

Jim surveyed Romaine and the boys in evident 
thought for a moment. ‘ ‘ Well, we’ll let bygones be 
bygones, ’ ’ he said. “ We ’ll take the box away. ’ ’ Then 
he added, looking at Tom, “You remember those fel- 
lows who were here on the beach the other day? I saw 
them on a schooner a couple of miles to the north of 
here this morning. ’ ’ 

“We knew they’d left,” said Tom. 

“I don’t know as I’d say they’d left,” Jim re- 
sponded. “The schooner was anchored in a little cove. 
She might come back again. Now if I was looking for 
a real rum crowd I ’d pick out those three lobsters. ’ ’ 

“You’ve said it!” declared Widdicome. “Yes, sir, 
you ’ve said it ! ” 

“But that’s none of my business,” stated the sailor. 
“That’s your affair,” he added, looking at Romaine. 
“And now, if we’ve had all the speechifying we want, 
let’s be moving. A couple of you fellows fetch that 
box out to the boat.” 

Two of the men carried out the order. The crew 
were about to embark when Chris Wilkins turned to 
the leader. “I say, Jim,” said he, “you know I told 
you I was thinking of looking for a new job. Well, 
this is as good a time as any. I’m tired of the smack ; 
250 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 


I think I’ll try work ashore. I’ve got some money in 
my clothes, and yon can send me my things when you 
get back to Halifax. ’ ’ 

“Why, what’s the trouble, Chris? You’re not going 
to turn honest storekeeper, are you?” 

“I’m going to try something I like better than the 
sort of work we’ve been doing,” was the answer. 
“You don’t mind, do you?” 

“Have it your own way, Chris,” said Jim. He 
shook the young fellow’s hand, and then gave the word 
to pull away. 

The boat receded, was lost behind the neighboring 
islands. 

“Now I feel better,” said Widdicome. He turned 
to the young sailor. “Those men mayn’t be what you 
might call bad, but they’re not the right kind for you 
and me, lad. I’ll give you food and a bed in my house 
till you think out what you’re going to do.” 

The group walked along the beach, but they had not 
reached the near-by ledge of rocks when they saw the 
tall figure of Craddock approaching. 

“I caught sight of those men from up on the cliff!” 
he exclaimed as he hurried forward. Then he stared 
at Widdicome. “Hello, Silas, what are you doing 
here?” 


251 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“Minding my own business, Ben,” came the quick 
reply. 

“And who are you?” asked Craddock, looking at 
Christopher Wilkins. 

“Never you mihd, Ben,” Widdicome took it on him- 
self to answer. “He’s a friend of mine. Let that be 
enough for you to know.” 

“A friend of yours! I believe he’s one of those 
smugglers!” 

“Smugglers!” echoed Widdicome. He turned to 
Rodney, who was nearest to him. “He’s hipped on 
smugglers. That’s what he is. He can’t think of 
nothing else.” 

The fisherman’s eyes glowered. “Well, let me tell 
you, Silas, there’s some as thinks you’ve been up to 
tricks yourself!” 

Widdicome drew himself up, and his glance was 
withering. “And let me tell you, Ben Craddock, that 
them as thinks evil of their neighbors is mighty nigh 
to doing evil themselves. I’ve seen my duty and I’ve 
done it. If there were any smugglers about here 
they’ve gone away.” 

“Gone away!” exclaimed Craddock. “Well now, 
that’s too bad!” 

The words and the fisherman’s pained expression 
252 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 

were so ludicrous that the three boys broke out laugh- 
ing. ‘ ‘ It ’s all right, Mr. Craddock, ’ ’ said Tom. “ No- 
body ’s breaking the law.” 

The fisherman muttered something, but Romaine 
went up to him and slapped him on the back. “Oh, 
come now, friend. Never mind the reward. You can 
catch better fish than smugglers any time you want. ’ ’ 

Craddock, presently somewhat mollified, accepted 
Romaine ’s invitation to them all to go up to his cot- 
tage and have some refreshments. Simmons’ lemon- 
ade and cakes were sufficient to restore the fisherman ’a 
good humor, and when the slanting sun reminded him 
that it was time to be returning to the village he ac- 
tually urged Silas Widdicome and Christopher Wilkins 
to go with him in his boat. 

Romaine disappeared in the house, but the three 
shipmates sat out on the steps of the porch. “Well, 
we’ve got Widdicome straightened out and we’re rid 
of the fishing-smack,” said Stephen. “It looks to me 
as if we might go on with our cruise again in a day or 
two.” 

“There’s still the William Howitt,” said Rodney. 
“I don’t think we ought to leave Refugee Rock yet.” 

“I wonder if we could get Mr. Romaine to go for a 
cruise with us in the Penguin suggested Tom. “We 
253 


REFUGEE ROCK 


could keep him away from his enemies if he’d go.” 

4 ‘I don’t believe he would,” said Rodney. “ I think 
there’s something here on the island that he wants to 
keep watch over. ’ ’ 

“What has Simmons been hiding?” Stephen asked 
abruptly. 

4 ‘ I don ’t know, ’ ’ answered Rodney. ‘ ‘ But whatever 
it is I believe it’s part of the secret that Mr. Romaine’s 
keeping.” 

“And we can’t ask,” put in Tom, “because I’m sure 
that Mr. Romaine would tell us if he wanted us to 
know. ’ ’ 

The sun had been set for some time and the stars 
were beginning to shine forth in the deep blue sky when 
the boys and their friend left the cottage and walked 
down to the cliff to remove the white flag that had been 
flying from the lone pine. By the timfe this was done 
it was night. They moved along the high ground, the 
beach below them shining in the starlight where the 
waves had left it wet. Then suddenly Tom, who was 
in the lead, stopped and pointed forward and down- 
ward. A dory was pulling away from the shore. 

“The men from the schooner?” whispered Stephen. 

“If it is, they’re leaving,” murmured Romaine. 

The boat pulled out and out. As it disappeared in 
254 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 


the shadows of the next headland Tom said, “Let’s 
have a look at the ravine. I ’ve got my torch. ’ ’ 

From the beach they turned into the gnlley, and as 
on the first night they had come to the island they 
pushed their way through underbrush and trees. 
Presently they came to the end of the path, and Tom 
with his torch found the sign. On the wall of rock 
that stuck out like a shelf was the board with the words 
in blue paint : 4 ‘ Beware Dynamite ! ’ 9 

Below the walls of the cliff separated in an opening 
several feet wide. “I’ll bet you it’s empty,” said Ste- 
phen. 4 ‘ Here, give me the light, Tom ; and I ’ll take a 
look round.” 

On hands and knees Stephen went into the opening. 
Several minutes passed before he came back. “Noth- 
ing there,” he announced. “They took Widdicome’s 
warning and got their stuff away.” 

“Well, we’ll take the sign,” said Rodney, and tucked 
the board with the blue paint under his arm. 

They went back by the beach to the north, and when 
they came to the shore where the Penguin had been 
moored they found Simmons patroling the sand. 
“All’s well, Simmons,” sang out Romaine. “We 
found the smugglers’ cave empty. We’ve got the 
place to ourselves.” 


255 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“I’m glad to hear it, sir. I was a bit uneasy my- 
self.” 

“Come, Simmons,” said Romaine cheerily. “It’s 
a beautiful night. ’ ’ 

“I could enjoy it more, Mr. Pierre, if I wasn’t won- 
dering about those three men.” 

“Well, if they come back, we’re ready for them.” 

“Oh, yes, we’re ready for them, sir. I’ve seen to 
all the things you told me.” 

“A good conscience, Simmons; and a trusty blade! 
That’s more than half the battle. Ah, what a night 
for a little sword-play down on these shining sands!” 

Simmons nodded, and fell in behind the others as 
they climbed the hill. 

In the house Romaine turned to the boys. “Will 
you start on your cruise to-morrow? The weather’s 
fine again, and you must want to be off. ’ ’ 

“We will if you’ll come with us,” Tom answered. 

Romaine shook his head, but Simmons spoke up. 
“Begging your pardon, sir; but I think it would be an 
excellent plan. Dan and I can look after the house.” 

“Leave you and Dan on guard? No, that wouldn’t 
do.” 

“But you’d be safely away, Mr. Pierre.” 

“And you and Dan would be here in peril. No, here 
256 


A LITTLE AFFAIR ON THE BEACH 


I stay, Simmons, until we can all leave with a clear 
conscience.’ ’ 

“Then here we’ll stay too,” said Tom. “Isn’t that 
so, fellows?” 

Stephen and Rodney each nodded. 

“Well,” said Romaine with a smile, “if you want to 
see this thing through, you shall. And I’ve a notion 
we can settle our scores with the three bears before 
many moons. They haven’t gone. No, no; they 
haven’t gone. You can’t frighten bears away as if 
they were tomcats.” 


257 


r 


XIX 


IN THE SAND DUNES 

I N spite of the summer stillness that enveloped the 
island next day all those about the cottage on the 
hill had the feeling that anything might happen. Ro- 
maine had taken the Lady Isabelle and polished her 
until she shone like a mirror. He had made sure of the 
suppleness of his wrist by practising with his precious 
rapier on the level ground before the porch. Then he 
brought forth one of the extra rapiers from its case in 
the corner of his living room and tried his arm with 
that. He seemed satisfied with his practice and whis- 
tled merrily as he put the blades back in their sheaths. 

Simmons wore a preoccupied, thoughtful air, and 
was frequently to be seen looking out at the ocean. 
The sight of a sail fascinated him, and caused him to 
snatch up the field-glasses and examine the distant 
canvas carefully. But each time when he put down 
the glasses he made no other comment than to shake 
his head. His very silence, however, was evidence of 
his alertness. 

Dan did his regular chores, and Caesar dogged his 
258 


IN THE SAND DUNES 


footsteps ; but even the colored boy and the dog seemed 
filled with suppressed excitement. As to the three 
shipmates, they were constantly on the stir. They 
made a round of Refugee Rock in the morning, and 
when they came back to the cottage their eyes were as 
continually on the patch of ocean as those of Simmons 
himself. 

Nothing unusual happened before lunch, however; 
and afterwards the noonday sun made them so drowsy 
that each took a nap on the porch. It was three o ’clock 
when they set out again, winding their way down to the 
water over the rocky, shrub-grown side of the hill. 

They circled the island completely, and brought up 
at last back of a series of high sand dunes that ran 
down toward the beach on the north. Here they rested 
awhile, lying on their backs, their caps shading their 
eyes ; lured again into drowsiness by the warm sun and 
the sweet salt air. 

Presently Stephen roused, and slowly getting to his 
feet, walked on toward the west. Rodney and Tom fol- 
lowed. A wild hedge made of thorns and blackberry 
bushes separated them from the upper end of the 
dunes. The sand was heavy here, shifting under their 
noiseless feet. Stephen stopped, sat down, and pulling 
off one shoe emptied the sand from it. 

259 


REFUGEE ROCK 


He had laced the shoe up again when Tom’s hand 
fell on his shoulder. Tom pointed and Stephen fol- 
lowed his finger. In the hollow between the high- 
walled dunes just opposite to them Levine and Veedol 
and Disdoff were sitting. They were looking out to- 
ward the water, their backs to the hedge that hid the 
boys. 

The three mates crouched there, silent. 

Levine had pulled off his green coat, and it now lay 
a little distance back of him in the cup of the dunes. 
Veedol, his hands behind his head, was sitting propped 
against the wall of sand. Disdoff was nearest to the 
open beach, so close to it indeed that the frequent turn- 
ing of his head from one side to the other indicated 
that he was keeping watch over it in both directions. 

The boys had watched the three for a short time 
when an abrupt movement on the part of Disdoff 
caught their attention. He leaned forward; evidently 
something on the beach to the left interested him. 

Curiosity tempted the shipmates. The sand made 
no sound, the hedge furnished fair protection. With 
caution they crept along over the rising ground until 
they came to a place where they had a view over the 
ridges of dunes. 

They saw what had caught Disdoff ’s eye, what he 
260 


IN THE SAND DUNES 


was watching from his shelter of sand. Over the 
beach Simmons was approaching; he was now about 
abreast of where the Penguin was moored ; if he came 
on fifty yards more he would be opposite the men in 
the dunes. 

Simmons stopped and looked over his shoulder ; then 
came on again. Would he go straight along the beach 
until he walked directly in front of the hiding men! 
The boys watched, fascinated. What was about to 
happen ? 

Simmons stopped again; looked all about him cau- 
tiously. Then he turned and advanced toward the 
bank, to the place beneath the gnarled pine where the 
mates had seen him stop before. 

He knelt down and fingered something hidden by 
the roots of the tree. He pulled out what looked like 
a piece of flat board and put his hand into an aperture 
formed by the roots. He seemed to be feeling around. 
Then he replaced the board and stood up. Apparently 
satisfied, he turned and walked away toward the west. 

Tom and Rodney stayed where they were, while 
Stephen crept back until he could look down the dunes 
again. The three men were all now crouching at the 
beach end, watching the retreating figure of Simmons. 
Stephen heard them whisper. Then, after several 
261 


REFUGEE ROCK 


minutes, Veedol and Disdoff ventured out. Stephen 
hurried back to his comrades. 

Simmons was out of sight. The two men had the 
beach to themselves. They went to the roots of the 
gnarled pine and pulled out the piece of board. They 
drew out one box, then another. They put back the 
board and carried their prizes to Levine. 

Behind the hedge of thorns and blackberries the boys 
watched the men in the hollowed out sand. Disdoff had 
taken out his knife and was ripping up the thin cover of 
one box. The wood cracked, and he wrenched the 
board loose. Then, placing the cover in front of his 
knees, he turned the box upside down and allowed the 
contents to tumble out on the board. 

Gold, silver, jewels; necklaces, bracelets, rings — a 
tangle of shining ornaments fell from the box. Veedol 
and Levine stretched out their hands toward the gleam- 
ing pile, picked up this and that piece, fingered it, ex- 
amined it, tapped it with their knuckles. 

Meantime Disdoff had ripped off the cover of the 
second box, and treated its contents as he had that of 
the first. These ornaments also the other two men 
handled. The boys stared, wondering if these were 
Pierre Romaine’s treasure, and how they had ever 
come into the charge of Simmons. 

262 



He Turned the Box Upside Down 





















. 












* 








« 


' 





































■ ■ 

























































































































































































































IN THE SAND DUNES 


They were surprised by an exclamation from the 
big, black-bearded man. Levine was shaking his fist 
and talking rapidly in his foreign tongue. He was in- 
tensely angry, his words sounded like so many splutter- 
ing explosions. He picked up one of the chains, 
flaunted it in the faces of his companions, and then 
flung it out on the beach. 

Disdoff and Yeedol took the ornaments, turned them 
this way and that, looked at them so closely one might 
have thought they were searching for tiny marks. 
They threw down necklaces and picked up rings, they 
discarded these and examined shining bits of glass cut 
like jewels. Then they also raised their voices in ex- 
clamations of rage and disappointment. 

Levine kicked the nearer board with its ornaments 
away from him, and threw himself back in the sand, 
resting on his elbows. Suddenly his deep voice broke 
into a laugh, sarcastic rather than mirthful. This 
angered Veedol, who glowered at him and said some- 
thing spiteful. The big man only laughed the more. 
He bobbed his head up and down, as if mocking the fat 
fellow. 

Tom touched Kodney and Stephen, and the three 
climbed up the hill until they were in safe whispering 
distance back of a row of pines. 

263 


REFUGEE ROCK 


4 4 They found it was only junk, ’ ’ said Tom. 4 4 That ’s 
all right for the moment. But what are they going to 
do next?” 

“We’ve got to wait and see,” Stephen answered. 
4 4 They might do anything. ’ 9 

The valley between the dunes was still in full view 
of the boys. The contents of the two boxes lay strewn 
about the sand ; Levine was sprawling on his back ; the 
others were squatting a little in front of him, jabbering 
and gesticulating. 

Yeedol presently poked his head out at the beach end 
of the western wall of sand. He gave a backward wave 
of his hand to his companions. 

4 4 Something’s up!” whispered Stephen, and edged 
along behind the trees to the left. The other two fol- 
lowed. 

Simmons was coming back up the beach. Again he 
appeared to have no inkling of the danger that was 
lurking in the dunes. He stopped and looked out at 
the Penguin. He strolled on, nearer and nearer the 
gnarled pine. 

4 4 They ’re going to get even with him for the trick 
he played them, ’ ’ muttered Tom. 

Simmons stopped, slowly turned around, and began 
to walk away, presenting his back to the watchers. 

264 


IN THE SAND DUNES 


Veedol sprang out from the dunes, and Disdotf after 
him. Their intention was obvious. 

“ We can’t let them get him! ” said Stephen, and 
commenced to run along the ridge. Tom followed. 
Eodney, glancing back, saw that Levine was still tak- 
ing his ease, resting on his elbows in the soft sand. 

Veedol and Disdotf were running. Now Simmons 
heard them and looked back. Seeing that they in- 
tended him no good, he took to his heels. He raced 
along the beach. 

The boys, up on the ridge, were making good time too. 
Stephen, in the lead, soon dashed down from the high 
ground, waded through the soft sand, struck the harder 
beach footing. He and Tom were outdistancing Eod- 
ney, as Disdotf in turn was forging ahead of Vee- 
dol. 

Simmons was not running so fast now, he was get- 
ting winded. But the short, slight Disdotf was a very 
sprinter, he was gaining fast on Simmons. Veedol 
was beginning to pant, his arms were rocking like 
signals of distress. Tom and Stephen bounded along, 
now almost at Veedol ’s heels. “You take him!” mut- 
tered Tom. 

Veedol came to a stop. He swung around, felt for 
something in his pocket. And on the instant Stephen 
265 


REFUGEE ROCK 

ran into him and bowled him over. The fat man gave a 
gasp and lay with his arms outstretched. 

Stephen felt in the man’s pocket and pulled out his 
revolver. 

Tom had not slowed a step. He was on after Dis- 
doff. Simmons had looked over his shoulder, and see- 
ing Tom, had turned toward the bushy hillside. Dis- 
doff had veered too, and was almost up with him. 

Rodney stopped running. He was some distance 
away from the others, but he saw that Stephen had 
Veedol helpless on the sand, and he knew that Tom 
and Simmons could handle the other man as well with- 
out his aid as with it. He was thinking of Levine, back 
there in the dunes. What might that man be doing*? 
It was important that someone should keep an eye on 
him. 

Rodney went back quickly. He left the beach and 
followed the ridge where it was shielded by bushes. 
This brought him at length to the hedge from behind 
which they had originally spied the three in the dunes. 
Levine was still lying there, smoking a cigarette, as if 
completely indifferent to what his companions were up 
to. 

The big man had pulled his cap over his eyes to 
shield them from the sun. But for the cigarette in his 
266 


IN THE SAND DUNES 


right hand he had every appearance of being asleep. 

Rodney sat down back of the bushes, a patient, alert 
observer. 

Gulls circled over the waves and dropped into the 
shallow water after fish. The pines high up on the 
hill began to cast their purple shadows over the yel- 
low sand. Rodney wondered what his two friends were 
doing, and kept his eyes on the bulky, recumbent form 
of Levine. 

Presently he noticed that Levine’s right hand had 
dropped by his side and that the cigarette was no 
longer burning. On the soft sand around Levine’s 
feet the glittering trinkets that had been in the two 
boxes still lay strewn. Rodney felt convinced that 
the man was dozing. 

The boy’s eyes roamed to Levine’s bottle-green coat 
that lay some distance back of him in the hollow be- 
tween the sand ridges. He caught a glimpse of some- 
thing sticking out of one of the side-pockets, some- 
thing on which the sunlight at that moment glinted. 

The glint was the tip of a revolver, Rodney felt as- 
sured. And as his eyes regarded that shining bit of 
metal with a sort of fascination a possibility occurred 
to him. If Levine were asleep the revolver might he 
taken from his coat pocket without his knowledge. 

267 


REFUGEE ROCK 


With the utmost caution Rodney crept out from be- 
hind the hedge. The slightest noise might reveal him 
to Levine. But the soft sand was the greatest protec- 
tion against sound. On hands and knees, and stopping 
every yard, he proceeded down the bank and into the 
valley of the dunes. 

Once Levine moved, but did not turn his head. His 
cap still shielded his eyes, and his hands were motion- 
less. Rodney crept on, and then as he stopped again 
a new idea came to him — he wanted something to put 
in the man’s pocket about the shape and size of the 
revolver. 

He looked about and his eyes fell on a small piece of 
driftwood, smooth and of about the right dimensions. 
It lay only a few feet away from him and in a minute 
he had it in his hand. That bit o'f wood, tucked in 
the man’s pocket, would feel like the revolver, in case 
Levine should later clap his hand to his coat without 
looking inside. 

Rodney neared the coat, and its owner still lay with- 
out moving. The boy stretched out his hand and 
touched the shining thing that was just visible under 
the flap of the pocket. He had been right, the metal 
was the tip of a revolver. Without making a sound he 
drew the weapon out and substituted for it the round 
v 268 


IN THE SAND DUNES 


piece of driftwood. He was careful to turn the pocket- 
flap down, so that the end should not protrude. 

Levine stirred, and every muscle and nerve in Rod- 
ney’s body seemed to quiver and then grow taut. He 
held the revolver clutched in his right hand, ready for 
emergencies. But the big man did not turn nor lift his 
head. He gave a little grunt, like a man half-asleep, 
and again lay still. 

Rodney crept back to the hedge, still on hands and 
knees, and moving backward. He turned a little as he 
reached the slope, but still held the revolver ready. At 
last he reached his shelter and again sat down on the 
ground. His face was wet with perspiration and he 
could feel his legs tremble. But he smiled as he looked 
at the shining little barrel and then stuck it in his own 
pocket. 

Levine was still dozing, and although Rodney stayed 
there for some time longer the big man neither turned 
nor sat up. Presently Rodney grew impatient. He 
wanted to know what had happened to Tom and Ste- 
phen and Simmons. The sun had sunk behind the 
crest of the island, and the beach and the nearer water 
were already in shadow. 

He stood up, and noiselessly skirted the bushes until 
he reached the trees. There he stretched his arms and 
269 


REFUGEE ROCK 


legs, that felt cramped and stiff, and wiped his warm 
face with the back of his hand. 

It seemed idle to watch the big man any longer. 
Rodney glanced at him, still lying in the sand, and then 
started off toward the west, coming down to the beach 
beyond the Penguin and Romaine’s small landing- 
stage. 

He hurried along in the direction where he had last 
seen his friends. In the sand he found the marks 
where Veedol had been sent sprawling on his back by 
Stephen. Farther on footprints led inland; this must 
be where Simmons had turned away from Disdoff. 
But in the underbrush all track of feet was lost. There 
was nothing to tell where the others had gone. Rod- 
ney stood still and listened. The only sound was the 
squawking of gulls and the gentle laps of the water. 

The island seemed deserted. Rodney wondered 
what could have happened to his friends and the men 
they had pursued. The only answer seemed to be that 
they had gone up into the woods. But the tangle of 
bushes and undergrowth was not inviting ; there was no 
point in climbing the hill in that direction. The easier 
and shorter way up to Romaine’s cottage was by the 
path that came down to the Penguin’s mooring. 

He walked back to this point on the beach and turned 
270 


IN THE SAND DUNES 


into the path. Then he felt a great curiosity to have 
one more look at the dunes, to see if Levine was still 
lying there. He ran along the bank until he could see 
down into the valley. The space between the walls of 
sand was empty. The two discarded boxes and their 
contents, now looking like dull brass in the shade, alone 
showed the spot where the three men had been. 

Levine had left the dunes. There was no sign of him 
on the beach. But where had he gone? And where 
had the others gone ? Puzzled and wondering, Rodney 
returned to the path and looked over the sand in either 
direction. 

Then he heard a noise, coming down the hillside. 
Wheeling about, he caught sight of Caesar. The dog 
came bounding up, yelping and wagging his tail in 
great excitement. 

“What do you want, old fellow ?” Rodney asked. 

Caesar turned and pointed his nose up the path in 
the direction of Romaine’s cottage. 

“Want me to come to your master V 9 

The dog barked, and his head and tail again showed 
his excitement. 

< ‘ Yes. That ’s what you want. All right, old fellow. 
We ’ll go up and lend a hand. ’ ’ 


271 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


T HE path that led up the hill was steep and 
set with many rocky ledges, but Rodney covered 
it at surprising speed. At first Caesar went before 
him, keeping quiet in order to save his breath, but pres- 
ently the dog fell behind; and so it was Rodney who 
came first to the little grove of pines that guarded the 
northern end of the open ground that stretched in front 
of the cottage. 

What he saw made him stare, amazed. His first im- 
pulse was to run past the trees into the open space. 
His next was to get a better grasp of the situation be- 
fore he interfered. 

Pierre Romaine, dressed as Rodney had first seen 
him, in riding-breeches and open-throated white shirt, 
stood with his rapier in his hand, regarding with a 
smile the tall, heavy, black-bearded Levine. So great 
was the difference in size that Romaine appeared al- 
most like David confronting the giant Goliath. In Le- 
vine ’s right hand was a piece of wood, the very same 
piece that Rodney had concealed in the man’s pocket. 
272 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


‘ ‘ Throw it away, ’ 1 Rodney heard Romaine say. ‘ 4 It 
might do to attack flies ; but it’s useless against a man. 
Come, Monsieur Levine, throw it away.” 

The other man dropped the piece of wood, and 
clenched his great fist. 

“That’s better, monsieur; much better,” said Ro- 
maine with a nod. “But even the fist is not the best 
weapon with which gentlemen may settle their dis- 
putes.” He tapped the hilt of his fapier with his 
fingers. “This is it, monsieur.” 

Levine muttered something in Russian. 

“Indeed yes, that is so,” agreed Romaine. He was 
speaking in English, perhaps with the notion of teasing 
his adversary. “But, you see, I can provide you. I 
have — ” 

At this moment Caesar, not so patient as Rodney, 
rushed upon the scene, harking and waving his tail in 
jubilation. He rubbed against Romaine ’s legs. 

“Quiet, be quiet, Caesar!” commanded his master. 
“We can attend to this matter without your aid. We 
want no interference from partisans on either side.” 

The dog slunk away, lying down on the grass near 
the cottage. 

Rodney stood in the grove, waiting to see what would 
happen. 


273 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“As I was saying,” Romaine resumed; “I can pro- 
vide you, monsieur.” With a quick step he turned to 
the porch and picked up the second rapier that was 
lying there. 

As he turned Levine sprang forward, fist upraised. 

Instantly Romaine had whirled around again, and 
now he presented the points of the two swords directly 
at Levine’s chest. 4 ‘Back, monsieur, back; or I’ll spit 
you like a goose!” 

The big man fell back a step, again exclaiming in 
Russian. 

“Further, further; out to the level stretch there.” 
And with the points of the rapiers as an inducement 
Romaine urged his enemy over to the ground where 
they were standing when Rodney first saw them. 

“Now,” said Romaine, again smiling, “I’m sure you 
regret that unworthy attempt to take me off my guard. 
I prefer to think of my enemies as honorable, no matter 
how much we may differ in our opinions. You look 
like a man who enjoys the thrill of combat.” He 
turned the hilt of the second rapier toward Levine. 
“You want to fight me? Well, I offer you the best of 
opportunity.” 

Levine stood sullen, frowning, his fingers gripping 
the edges of his green coat. 

274 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


4 ‘ Don’t you want to fight? Very well. ,, Romaine 
threw the rapier on the grass, its hilt not very far from 
Levine’s feet. 

Still the big man stood there, a good foot taller than 
the man in the white shirt. 

Romaine had the tip of his own rapier resting on his 
boot. “Did you think that I came to this island be- 
cause I was afraid of you and your friends? If you 
did, our talk that night at the house on shore should 
have corrected your error. I am always ready to meet 
you and to fight you fairly. You will pardon me if I 
say that it begins to look to me as if you didn’t care to 
taste your own medicine. ’ ’ 

Levine gave a growl, and stooping, snatched up the 
rapier from the ground. 

“Ah, that’s more like it, monsieur,” said Romaine 
quickly. “Have you ever had such a thing in your 
hand before?” 

“Yes!” cried the other, stung at last into speaking 
in English. “Often I have! And I’ve fought better 
men than you!” 

“Better and better, monsieur!” Romaine exclaimed 
in a tone that indicated the greatest delight. “I ad- 
mire the experienced hand.” 

For the first time the big man smiled, baring his 
275 


REFUGEE ROCK 


white teeth. “I, Ivan Levine, have fought with every 
weapon ! I will show yon, monsieur. ” 

Next minute the two were at it; and almost as quick 
as the shining blades had touched in salutation Rodney 
realized that Levine knew how to handle a rapier. He 
was not so alert as Romaine, who was in fact quicker 
than the eye, but he was alert enough to guard himself, 
and his greater height gave him a longer reach. 

Caesar stirred and stood up; but he was too much 
accustomed to seeing his master practice with the foil 
or give a fencing lesson to Dan for him to interfere 
now. As for Rodney, he clutched the nearest branch 
of a pine ; but otherwise made no movement ; he under- 
stood that Romaine had deliberately sought this test 
with his enemy and would not thank anyone who inter- 
rupted. 

There was no doubting the earnestness with which 
the bearded man was pressing the attack. He meant to 
win out now and settle with Romaine. He took no rash 
chances, his guard was well-nigh perfect, and as one or 
the other shifted ground or made around in a circle 
Levine’s footing was surprisingly light and quick for a 
man of his size. v 

His coat was a handicap, however. Its tails would 
flap and the sleeves hampered his arms. “One mo- 
276 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


ment!'' cried Romaine. “ Throw off your coat, mon- 
sieur ! ,J 

The blades shivered against each other, and then the 
points dropped. Levine let his rapier fall to the 
ground and flung off the bottle-green coat. He rolled 
up his sleeves, caught his weapon again, and stood at 
attention in his red waistcoat. 

He was even more agile now. Time and again he 
lunged like forked lighting, only missing the white shirt 
of Romaine by a scant inch or so. But Romaine was 
swift, his wrist, his arm, his feet were absolutely tire- 
less. His eyes showed that he realized his enemy was 
not to be held lightly; Levine was dangerous, one 
slip on Romaine 's part and the other would have 
him. 

The bearded man was dripping wet ; he pressed the 
battle, knowing he must be quick. For an instant the 
thrusts and parries were simply a glitter before Rod- 
ney's eyes. He thought Romaine must be caught, his 
enemy was so fierce. Then suddenly there was a flash 
of Romaine 's wrist and Levine's rapier went spinning 
from his hand. 

Romaine lowered his point from his enemy's red 
waistcoat. He stood back a step. “Well, monster?” 
he inquired. 


277 


REFUGEE ROCK 

Levine let his hands open at his side. “You have 
me,” he said. “What do you want of me?” 

“ To go back to your home. ” 

Levine swept the sweat from his brow with his arm. 
“You are a great fighter, monsieur. I feel no shame 
at having to yield to you.” 

“That is well spoken,” said Romaine. He drew a 
handkerchief from his breeches ’ pocket and touched his 
rapier with it. “My lady here has never failed me yet. 
She is the most perfect thing I know.” Then he 
looked up and nodded at the other. “If you will take 
a seat on my porch, Monsieur Levine, we can await 
developments more comfortably.” 

The bearded man appeared doubtful for a moment ; 
then he also nodded and smiled. “It seems that I 
must,” he said. 

“The wise man always does what he must,” ob- 
served Romaine. 

Levine picked up his coat and walked over to the 
porch. 

Rodney came out from the grove, and Caesar gave 
him a loud yelp of welcome. “I saw it all!” cried 
Rodney, his eyes on Romaine. 

“A very fine passage at arms,” said the latter. 
“What’s become of Steve and Tom!” 

278 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


“I thought they’d be here,” was the answer. “I 
haven ’t seen them for over an hour.” 

Levine on the porch, the other two seated on a rock 
in the open space, waited. After a while Dan appeared 
from the woods. He gave his message in great excite- 
ment. Simmons wanted Mr. Romaine to go down to 
the beach on the western side immediately; it was of 
the utmost importance. 

“Well,” said Romaine, “we’ll come. But I think 
we’ll all have to go. Monsieur Levine, we’re wanted 
down on the beach. Are you sufficiently rested!” 

Dan led the way, Caesar rubbing against his legs; 
then came Levine, followed by Romaine, his rapier in 
his hand ; and last of all Rodney. When they came out 
on the shore Rodney saw, to his surprise, a consider- 
able group. Disdoff and Veedol were standing down 
by the water, with Jim Moody and Abe Pringle appar- 
ently guarding them. At a little distance were Tom, 
Stephen, Simmons and Silas Widdicome. 

The latter group came up to Romaine at once. * 4 So 
you’ve got the other, Mister Pierre, have you!” Sim- 
mons said. “That makes a clean bag of them.” He 
pointed to Veedol and Disdoff. “With Mr. Tom ’s help 
I was able to capture the thin one, and Mr. Stephen 
accounted for the fat one.” 

279 


REFUGEE ROCK 


“He got pretty well jarred,” put in Stephen. 

“Yes, Simmons, I see,” said Romaine. “But Mr. 
Widdicome and the other two men?” 

“After we bagged those fellows,” explained Sim- 
mons, “we had quite a discussion about them — what we 
should do with them, I mean, sir. Should we take them 
up to the house ? That seemed rather dangerous ; they 
might manage to give us the slip. So finally we hit on 
the plan of having Mr. Tom go over to the village in his 
boat and get the constable. Mr. Stephen and I 
watched the prisoners; Mr. Stephen had taken the 
pistol from the fat one, and the thin one wasn ’t armed. 
And Mr. Tom came back with the constable and two 
friends. We’ve given our men into the constable’s 
charge, sir.” 

“And what will happen to them?” asked Romaine. 

“Jim Moody says he can have them sent back to 
Europe as undesirables,” spoke up Widdicome. 
“ He ’s got plenty of evidence against them. ’ 7 

“They certainly are undesirables,” said Simmons, 
looking at his master. 

“Oh, yes, they’re all of that,” agreed Romaine. 

“Breaking into my house,” said Widdicome, “and 
treating me something shameful. We don’t want them 
in the United States any longer. ’ ’ 

280 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


“Well, so be it,” said Romaine. “This is your 
country, and if you don’t want them here, why, it’s 
your right to see that they don’t stay.” He looked at 
Levine. “Will you go back home with your compan- 
ions? It’s your best course, it seems to me.” 

For answer Levine, thrusting his hands in his 
pockets, walked across the beach to his two mates. 

It was not long afterwards that the Penguin, with 
Tom and Stephen, the three Russians, Widdicome, 
Moody and Pringle aboard, set out from Refugee Rock. 
Back of her she towed the small boat in which the 
foreigners had reached the island, and which Stephen 
had discovered in a little rock-bound harbor on the 
northwestern shore. The Penguin headed directly for 
Swannock’s Neck. 

The others walked across the beach to the path where 
Caesar had come running down to summon help for his 
master. Ahead of them were the sand dunes, and 
Dan’s eye caught sight of some of the discarded con- 
tents of the two boxes. He pointed these out, and they 
all went up to them. 

For the first time since Rodney had known him Sim- 
mons burst into a resounding laugh. “You must ad- 
mit, Mr. Pierre,” he said between shakes of amuse- 
ment, “that I had my sport with them over those hid- 
281 


REFUGEE ROCK 

den treasures. “Look.” He stooped and picked up 
brass chains, brass curtain-rings, pieces of colored 
glass, the odds and ends that might have been found in 
a junk shop. ‘ ‘ Here we have gold and jewels, precious 
stones, the heirlooms of your house!” 

“Did you mean the men to find them?” asked Rod- 
ney. 

“I got all I could from the village,” answered Sim- 
mons, ‘ ‘ and I hid them in various places. Yes, I hoped 
they would find them. I wanted to have some fun with 
them. Those three were looking for treasure; and I 
didn’t want them to be disappointed.” 

“I wish you could have seen them when they poured 
that stuff out on the sand ! ” said Rodney. And he told 
the others what he had witnessed from his hiding- 
place. 

Presently they returned to the cottage. Simmons 
and Dan went indoors to prepare dinner ; Romaine and 
Rodney sat on the steps of the porch. Caesar, his head 
stretched along his paws, lay at Rodney’s feet, blinking 
sleepily at the sunset behind the trees. 

“It turned out all right,” said Romaine thought- 
fully, “but there was danger in it. They’d never have 
got what they came after ; but they might have got me. 
They were afraid to put me out of the way, for if they 
282 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


did, they didn’t see how they’d be able to locate the 
treasure. It was touch and go more than once in that 
fight whether Levine wouldn ’t run me through with his 
rapier.” 

u He’s a powerful man,” said Rodney. 

“He’s a fine fencer,” added Romaine. 

“Here’s his revolver,” said Rodney, taking the 
weapon from his pocket. He told how he came to 
have it. 

“If those three would only use their brains to some 
good purpose!” exclaimed Romaine. “But that’s the 
way with some fellows; they seem made to run wild.” 

They were still chatting when Tom and Stephen ar- 
rived. “Moody’s got them safe,” Tom reported. 
“It’s a good day’s work.” 

4 4 And now, ’ ’ cried Stephen. 4 4 We ’ve got nothing to 
do but eat and enjoy ourselves until to-morrow!” 

They did an enormous amount of eating that eve- 
ning. Simmons had provided a very splendid dinner 
in honor of the occasion, and the sky was already star 
lit before they left the table for the porch. 4 4 You’ve 
done a fine job, boys,” said Romaine. 4 4 You were 
looking for adventure and you got it.” 

4 4 Roddy was looking for it, ’ ’ put in Stephen. 4 4 He ’s 
always looking for it. He told me that first night here 
283 


REFUGEE ROCK 


that he was never so thrilled in his life as when he 
heard that pistol shot on the beach in the dark. He 
was tickled to death. ’ 9 

“The shot the smugglers fired to warn us away,” 
said Tom. “It’s funny that the smugglers and the 
Russians should both have lighted on the same place — 
and not such a very big place at that.” 

“I think there must be something about you that 
draws exciting things your way,” Rodney suggested, 
looking at Romaine. 

The man laughed and nodded. “Perhaps there is, 
Roddy. Eve always had my share of thrills. But I 
was born into a family that’s famous for adventures. 
My father was a prince — Spiridoff is the name . 9 9 

“Then you’re a prince too,” said Stephen. 

“Not so loud,” Romaine said jokingly. “Princes 
aren’t very popular at present. I took my mother’s 
name when I crossed the ocean ; Romaine, just Pierre 
Romaine is good enough for me. But I brought some 
of the Spiridoff heirlooms with me. That’s what our 
greedy friends were after.” He drummed with his 
fingers on the arm of his chair. “I might have put 
them in a safe deposit box in one of the cities, of 
course. But that didn’t appeal to me. I preferred to 
have the defending of them myself. A foolish idea 
284 


STAND AND DELIVER! 


perhaps, but then, like Roddy here, I cherish the sense 
of adventure. So I brought them out to the island, 
and I hid them. Those three would never have got a 
glimpse of them.” 

He stopped and looked at each of his friends with his 
quizzical smile. ‘ ‘ I know what you ’re each thinking — 
you’re wishing you might have a look at them. Well, 
you deserve it. I’ll show you the real treasure to- 
morrow. ’ ’ 


285 


XXI 


COMRADES FOUR 

I T was after breakfast next morning that Romaine 
said to his guests: “Who wants to go treasure 
hunting? All those who’d like to, please rise.” 

The three boys rose as one. 

“It seems to be a pretty popular sport in America,’ ’ 
Romaine observed, pretending to look surprised. “I 
suppose you inherit that taste from the days when 
pirates and buccaneers used to stop in at all the sum- 
mer resorts along the coast and make things lively for 
the guests. Well, if you feel that way about it I’ll 
lead you to it. But first lift your right hands and 
promise you’ll never tell anyone where my treasure is 
hid.” 

The three raised their hands and solemnly promised. 
“Good enough. Simmons is the only other person 
who knows, and I ’d trust Simmons even with my Lady 
Isabelle. You’ll admit that means a great deal when 
you remember how I feel about my wonderful rapier. 
Well, you won’t need swords or pistols or even spades 
on this hunt. Just follow the leader.” 

286 


COMRADES FOUR 


He led them out of the house and around the porch 
to the northern end. Here there was a latticed door 
into the space between the ground and the planks of 
the porch. Opening this, they went in. Wood for the 
fire was piled here. The ground sloped and the roof 
was so low that in places they had to stoop to keep 
from bumping their heads against the supporting 
beams. Romaine led them to the opposite end, which 
had no door, but only the latticed wall. 

“Now,” he said, “I’ll show you a hiding-place of 
my own devising.” 

Against the latticed end three posts, cut square, held 
the boards of the porch. One was next to the founda- 
tions of the cottage, one at the outer edge of the porch, 
and the third rose half-way between. And running 
horizontally across these uprights was a beam, about 
eight inches square. It looked as if it was solid, and 
Romaine rapped upon it with his knuckles to show that 
it was tightly wedged in place. 

Then he pulled a small peg from the under side of 
this beam at the end near the outer edge of the porch. 
That done, he exerted a little pressure on the beam 
with his fingers, and after a minute swung one half of 
it loose, down toward the ground. The wood was so 
cleverly dovetailed, and the hinges so completely hid- 
287 


REFUGEE ROCK 


den on the nnder side that no one would have supposed 
that the beam was in reality made of two pieces and 
that one would drop like the door of a chest. 

The three mates watched with absorbed attention 
while Romaine pulled out half-a-dozen more small pegs 
and then lifted from the hollow beam a long tin box, 
japanned and painted black. He placed this carefully 
on top of a barrel, and with a key on the end of his 
watch-chain unlocked it. Lifting the lid, he nodded. 
“ There are the things I carried away with me from 
the old castle on the Black Sea.” 

The boys stared as Romaine picked up one object 
after another and held each in turn for them to see. 
There were rings set with rubies and emeralds, dia- 
monds, sapphires and other wonderful stones, there 
were necklaces made entirely of these precious gems, 
there were pendents and bracelets, there were stars of 
Russian orders of knighthood encrusted with jewels, 
there was filagree work in gold of old and marvellous 
craftsmanship. 

Little as the three boys knew of jewels and orna- 
ments each of them realised at once that these things 
they saw were genuine and of great value. And Ro- 
maine recounted the history of some of them briefly. 
They had belonged to the men and women of the Spiri- 
288 


COMRADES FOUR 


doff line, some were the gifts of emperors, kings and 
princes, some had been bought in the Far East, one, a 
magnificent ruby, a globe of the purest red hanging 
from a collar of lesser rubies, had been a present from 
an Indian rajah to a Prince Spiridoff of the Sixteenth 
Century. 

“I don’t think of their value in coin,” said Romaine, 
letting a chased chain of gold and silver slip slowly 
through his fingers into the silk-lined box. “I think 
of them as my ancestors’ treasures. I have seen my 
mother wear some of them at home ; I have heard my 
father tell the story of how many of them came into our 
possession. And to think that Ivan Levine and the 
tavern-keeper and that rascal Disdoff wanted to take 
them from me ! I would have fought them to my last 
drop of blood rather than have them touch this box 
with their dirty fingers!” He gave a little laugh. 
“But they could never have found it. What do you 
think of my hiding-place, Rodney?” 

“I don’t see how anyone could have discovered it,” 
said Rodney. 

“I did a lot of thinking,” Romaine continued, “be- 
fore I hit on this place. I wanted to keep the box 
somewhere near at hand, under my eye, as it were ; and 
yet in a place where my enemies couldn’t possibly find 
289 


REFUGEE ROCK 


it, even if they had the run of the cottage unmolested. 
What could be better than one of these solid beams? 
I know something about carpentry — it has always been 
one of my hobbies ; and so I sawed through that beam, 
hollowed it out, fastened hinges. I’ll lay you odds of 
a million to one that a man might search this place for 
a month or a year and never pull that beam open and 
look inside.” 

‘ ‘ You ’re right,” agreed Stephen. “He couldn’t. 
It’s the best hiding-place I ever saw.” 

Romaine put the jewels and necklaces, the rings and 
the stars back in their cushioned cases, packed them 
into the box, locked it, and returned it to its pocket. 
He fastened it in with the pegs, lifted the beam and 
swung it into place. Only if one knew where to look 
could one detect the slightest sign of the work of a saw 
on the outside of the wood. 

At noon the same idea occurred to the host and his 
guests — they wanted to go in swimming. They sought 
the eastern beach and bathed in the cool water without 
any apprehension of meeting smugglers or enemies. 
Lunch followed, and then Tom declared that the crew 
of the Penguin would set sail to see if there was 
any sign of the William Howitt on that part of the 
coast. 


290 


COMRADES FOUR 


The three shipmates cruised among the islands 
under their own sail. With a .favoring wind they cov- 
ered a good deal of water, but caught no sight of the 
schooner. ‘ 4 She’s gone,” said Stephen, as they 
brought the Penguin about on the homeward tack. 
“And a good riddance too!” 

They had time to stop at Swannock’s Neck before 
sunset. Mrs. Widdicome and her husband were both 
in the store and glad to see the boys. “You don’t 
think so badly of us now, I hope,” said Stephen. “I 
know we look pretty disreputable — especially Roddy 
here, with his lobster skin — but we’re not villains.” 

“I think you’re mighty nice young fellows,” an- 
swered Mrs. Widdicome. “Silas has told me all about 
what you’ve been doing. I think it was splendid of 
you to help him make those men take the furs back. 
The idea of their trying to get him in trouble. He’s 
promised never to keep a secret from me again.” 

Widdicome looked rather sheepish as he smiled 
and nodded. “That’s right, boys; that’s right. If 
I’d only had Martha up in my room that night she’d 
have told those scamps just exactly where they got 
oft.” 

From Widdicome the boys learned that Constable 
James Moody had taken his prisoners to Portland and 
291 


REFUGEE ROCK 


that no more trouble was to be expected from them. 
He also told them that Christopher Wilkins had gone 
to the city, where he meant to look for work. 

The storekeeper walked to the waterfront with the 
boys and said goodbye, adding that he hoped they’d 
look in at Swannock’s Neck the next time they cruised 
that way. 

The Penguin was sailing among the islands out to- 
ward Refugee Rock when Craddock, in his noisy motor- 
boat, hove in sight. He waved his hand, and after a 
few minutes was alongside the knockabout. “Well,” 
he said, “you had better luck than I did. You got 
those three men. But I don’t bear ye no grudge. 
What were those foreigners after?” 

“They were after the treasures of the house of 
Spiridoff,” Stephen answered grandly. “And the 
Spiridoffs, as you probably know, are one of the old- 
est families in Europe and have any number of castles 
on the Black Sea.” 

Craddock’s eyes puckered in surprise; he stared at 
Stephen, and then a grin creased his weather-beaten 
cheeks. “You’re a great kidder, you are,” he 
chuckled. “Treasures of the house of What-d’you- 
call-it! You can’t fool old Benjamin.” 

“All right. Have it your own way then,” said Ste- 
292 


COMRADES FOUR 


pken. And as the Penguin drew away from the other 
boat he called, “ Don’t forget to throw the little lobsters 
back into the ocean. We may want some if we come 
along here next year.” 

“ There’s always plenty of lobsters in Swannock’s 
Neck. There’s Silas Widdicome, for instance,” was 
the fisherman’s parting shaft. 

“The treasures of the house of Spiridoff,” repeated 
Tom, sitting at the wheel. “That does sound pretty 
thrilling.” 

“Well, it’s true, isn’t it?” demanded Stephen. 

1 ‘ The first time I saw Pierre Romaine I knew he was 
different from other people,” said Rodney. 

“That’s because he was practising fencing,” said 
Tom. 

“No, it wasn’t that only. Somehow he looked as if 
he might be a prince. ’ ’ 

“Prince or no prince, he’s a good fellow anyhow,” 
said Stephen. “And I hope we can get him to go on 
the cruise with us.” 

That night the shipmates repeated their invitation. 
“Everything’s snug about here now,” said Tom. 
“And we’ve plenty of room in the boat.” 

“Well, I would like to join you,” answered Romaine. 
“I should feel quite deserted with the smugglers and 
293 


REFUGEE ROCK 


the schooner and you all leaving at once. I ’ll see what 
Simmons thinks.” 

Simmons came at his call. “Do you think you can 
look after the Rock in my absence?” Romaine asked. 
“I’ve been invited to go for a cruise in the Pen- 
guin.” 

“I’m certain of it, Mr. Pierre. And if you’re not 
here, there won’t be very much for me to look 
after.” 

“You forget the Lady Isabelle, Simmons. I shall 
leave her in your charge. And if anything happens to 
her I shall never forgive you.” 

The servant smiled. “Her ladyship shall have 
every attention, sir. I shall see that nobody takes her 
down from her place on the mantel. I really wish you 
would go, Mr. Pierre.” 

“You mean it would be a load off your mind?” Ro- 
maine suggested. He looked at the boys. “ Simmons 
is a wonderful fellow; but he does take me and my 
affairs very seriously.” 

“Quite so, sir,” said Simmons. “But if you’ll par- 
don my saying so, a young man like you does take a lot 
of looking after.” 

“You do it splendidly,” laughed Pierre Romaine; 
“as you do everything, Simmons.” 

294 


COMRADES FOUR 


Next morning they breakfasted early, and soon 
afterwards the Penguin , with her crew of four aboard, 
spread her sail and left Refugee Rock for the broad 
and smiling ocean. 


THE END 


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